Glass Slippers
by lavenderbreeze30
Summary: Catching Bane's interest was something she had feared, but now that she has his full attention, will she be able to save herself from Gotham's reckoning? Bane/OC. Rated for potential sexual scenes and language.
1. Gotham's Angel

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except my own OC.**

* * *

The freshly caught elites of Gotham were herded into the Court House by a group of vicious looking guards armed to the teeth. Amongst them were cocky politicians, once beautifully dressed wives of CEO's and a couple of young people who were probably their children. Some shook where they stood, filthy and bloodied from hiding in alleys and attics. Others swore viciously, anger flashing in their eyes. However, only one stood calmly, her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She was a young woman in her early twenties, dressed in a black knee length dress belted neatly at the waist beneath a black trench coat with high heels to match. She looked slightly ruffled, although her hair was in a perfect, elegant French twist and her mascara only slightly smudged beneath her eyes.

Roughly the captured were shoved into a single line, and the judgment began. Those sentenced to death were shot immediately, their cries and pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears. Those sentenced to exile were taken aside to be taken to the lake as a group.

Nearly two hours later, the young woman reached the front of the line. Her face remained an impassive mask and her hands remained unshaking, still clasped in front of her.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" came the voice of Jonathan Crane. The woman thought he might have been handsome if it weren't for the days' worth of stubble on his face and the ridiculous feathers on his jacket.

"Could it really be Gotham's little _angel_?" He spat the word as if it burned his tongue. "Oh how the mighty have fallen!"

As the spectators looked upon the afore mentioned woman, a confused murmur flitted through the crowd.

"Well, then. Let us not dally. Step right up Ms. Amy Bloor! Judgement awaits you!"

Without hesitating, Amy made her way to the chair set in the center of the room, her shoes making her every step sound all the more confident. She primly sat down, crossing her legs at the knee and placing her still clasped hands in her lap. She did not take her eyes off of Crane the entire time.

"So, what will it be, Ms. Bloor? Death or exile?" asked Crane in a mockery of an interested tone.

Amy remained silent for a minute. She didn't want to die. There was still so much she could have achieved. But that was not a liberty she had anymore. Making her decision, she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

"Wait! Why is she here? She's not like the rest of the filthy rich scum! Let her go!" The voice came from the back of the assembled crowd. It was joined by others, all calling for the woman's freedom.

Furious, Crane slammed his gavel. The crowd quieted enough for him to speak, but did not fall silent.

"How is she any different? Did she not live in luxury while so many of us starved and perished in the streets? And even now, while most of us fight for a morsel of food, she looked well fed and groomed. What justice is it to let her live unpunished?"

The outraged crowd once again rose to a roar. They shouted of the generous amounts of money she donated to the people from her own pocket, the endless hours she spent volunteering in soup kitchens and shelters, and most of all they spoke of how she had started out as one of them. Through the din it was hard to understand the individual stories told by each protester, but as a collective it was clear that Amy Bloor had touched the lives of many.

The woman herself looked upon these strangers standing up to protect her with wide eyes. Something like hope, long ago forgotten with the arrival of Bane and his men, blossomed in her chest.

Suddenly, shots went off and people screamed, although no one seemed to be injured. The crowd parted to allow Bane himself to walk to the front, his sheer size and aura of power leaving everyone present speechless. Amy didn't dare turn around, but the thunderous footsteps left her with no doubt that it was indeed him who was leisurely approaching the back of her chair. Once he stood directly behind her, his every mechanical breath echoing throughout the room, he stopped and remained silent. He gestured with his hand for Crane to continue, but otherwise made no move to speak or harm the woman in the chair.

Now Amy shook. Although despite this, inside she felt a deadly calm. She felt cold and the blood roaring in her ears deafened her. Time seemed to have slowed down, the crowd returning to its protests with much less vigor this time, casting wary glances at the huge man looming in the center of the room. Crane's face reddened as he seemed to become angrier and angrier by the second before finally barking out words Amy could not hear. She remained frozen where she was until a voice sounded right by her ear, accented and eerie, but that she had no trouble understanding.

"You are free to go, Gotham's angel."

* * *

Amy finally seemed to have come back to herself five blocks from the Court House. She could vaguely remember slowly, ever so slowly, rising from the chair and leaving the room in long strides, the masked man's eyes burning into her back. When the door shut, and he could no longer see her, it was as if a thread had been snapped and allowed her lungs to expand again. She had somewhat registered the cold air that hit her like a physical being as she stepped down the stairs, but was not coherent enough to button up her coat. And then, she had simply walked in a straight path while the shock wore off.

Now, she buttoned her coat with shaking fingers, having sunk down the wall of a nearby building. She was alive. In fact, she didn't have a single blemish on her body to prove that she had just gone through that terrifying ordeal. That felt very, very wrong in a way. Surely something as huge as almost being killed and being within touching distance of_ freaking Bane_ would have pronounced itself on her skin?

Amy didn't know how long she sat there in the street, the cold slowly seeping into her bones. Instead of numbing her however, it seemed to make the final pieces in her mind fall back into place. She realised that she should have somehow expressed her gratitude to the people that had saved her life. But it was no use to cry over spilt milk, so she stood up and turned to go home.

The shortest route to her downtown apartment passed right in front of the Court House. She didn't think it was wise to test her luck for the second time that day, so instead she took the longer route that took her by Gotham General.

The hospital was well lit and appeared to still have ambulances running. On a different day, she would have turned right and visited the orphanage further down Central Street, which was always looking for volunteers to soothe the children. Amy didn't think that in her current state she would do anything but further traumatize the poor kids.

Thirty minutes later, Amy reached her building, climbing the stairs to her 23rd floor apartment. With her legs burning but warmed up after the cold outside air, Amy finally reached her floor and made her way down the hall. The walls bore splatters of unidentifiable liquids and the wood paneling was heavily scarred. Averting her eyes, Amy walked a little faster.

Bane's arrival didn't seem to have left anything untouched. Even her own apartment had been ransacked, thankfully while she hadn't been there. She didn't want to know what would have happened to her had she been present. She had had time to clean up, so there was no longer any broken glass or tattered bits of curtain lying around, however it looked barren, some of the furniture having been stolen and demolished into bits.

Battered as it was, it was still home, and it made Amy feel like she might just make it through the day.

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**Author's Note: My first published fanfiction ever! Super exciting! Please comment! I am excited to hear anything and everything! And please point out any grammatical/spelling errors I missed!**

**-lavenderbreeze30**


	2. Bunny Slippers and Tea

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my own OC.**

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After a meal of a half a box of mac and cheese and a hot shower, Amy was starting to feel like herself again. She had changed into yoga pants and a pink shirt, a pair of bunny slippers finishing of the outfit. It was evening now, and she was looking forward to getting at least a few hours of sleep before facing the world again. That was until the knock on the door.

The sound made Amy jump. No one had visited her since the arrival of Bane in the city. All of her friends had scattered and she seldom ran into them. The knock sounded again, this time louder and faster than the last.

Amy made her way to the door, figuring that if the person on the other side meant her harm, they would have broken down the door anyway. However, she did not completely abandon caution, and checked the peep hole. All she saw was black, as if someone was covering it on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, she freed the locks and pulled open the door, leaving the chain in place.

The breath left her when she saw her uninvited visitor.

To encounter him once in close proximity was unfortunate, but seeing Bane twice in one day had Amy thinking that someone up there _really _hated her.

"If you wish to keep this door intact, I suggest you open it," he said, the visible half of his face emotionless and cold.

Amy shut the door and for a wild second fantasized about shutting the locks again and hiding under the bed. The probable consequences of that plan pushed her hand to free the chain and pull open the door and hold it for the masked man. He strolled in looking to be completely at ease in her suddenly tiny looking apartment. Amy closed the door but didn`t throw the locks.

When he reached the middle of her apartment, he turned and met her green eyes with the icy blue of his own. She wondered what he saw as he looked at her. She wasn`t very impressive, standing at five feet five inches, built like a bird with thick, straight black hair that reached just past her shoulders. Did he think she was just like any other spoiled young woman living in luxury in the center of Gotham?

They stood staring at each other for what felt like hours, her not daring to break the silence, and him seemingly deep in thought. When the silence stretched long enough that Amy felt she would pass out if she waited even a second more, she decided to speak.

"Would…would you like some tea?" The ridiculous question came out in a whisper, as if raising her voice to normal volume would provoke him to attack her. He had no trouble hearing her, however, and chuckled. She wondered if it would sound human without the mask.

"No I would not, but feel free to indulge yourself." Amy scurried to the kitchen giving Bane a wide berth as she passed him. She didn`t think she could so much as swallow a drop of water with her throat as constricted as it was at that moment, but making tea would give her something else to do than remain locked in the masked man`s eyes.

Filling the kettle with water and setting it on the stove, Amy heard Bane enter the kitchen behind her. One of her kitchen table chairs screamed for mercy as he settled his massive frame on it. The comical picture of the chair fully shattering under him crossed Amy's mind and she had to fight to supress a sudden giggle. That was definitely a sign of the last bits of her sanity crumbling.

There was an awkward pause while Amy waited for the kettle to boil, diligently staring at it for lack of anything else to do. Bane's breathing was surprisingly quiet, despite the mask's hiss. Though that didn't help the awful bubble of suspense in Amy's head. She was sure that Bane's visit was somehow related to the events at the Court House that day, but she couldn't fathom what required him to appear in person.

"Are you perhaps hoping to _will _the water to boil?" Bane's amused tone made Amy flinch. She took this comment as her signal to do something. She turned, avoiding eye contact, and sat in the chair opposite his, knees together, hands clasped on the table, the pose coming to her naturally after so many years of careful practice. She kept her eyes on the table as if the plain wooden surface was suddenly fascinating. His eyes however remained trained on her face, making her heart beat faster.

"You think that I will cause you harm." It was a statement, not a question, and his amused tone made her eyes flick up to his in outrage. Here she was terrified out of her mind and he found it _funny._ She supposed someone like him would have a sadistic sense of humour.

"I was only curious to the purpose of your visit," she answered, her tone polite, but crisp. Amy hoped she didn't sound too much like a stuck up rich girl. He didn't seem to like those much.

"Let me assure you that I will not kill you," he replied, the skin around his eyes crinkling. Was he smiling? "You have caught my attention. I am curious to see what makes you so special in the eyes of the people of Gotham."

She was spared the necessity of replying by the kettle's whistle. Bane remained silent while she prepared her tea and returned to her seat, cradling her mug between her palms. The warmth was steadying and Amy raised her head to look him in the face again, determined to shorten the length of his visit.

"I believe in treating others the way I wish to be treated, and today the people I helped, helped me." She hoped he would leave now. She felt awfully underdressed and generally inadequate with him so close and just _oozing_ confidence. Maybe he would lose interest and decide not to bother with her anymore.

"Such a naïve philosophy. The world is rarely so simple. Yet you have managed to convince hundreds of your true goodness. That is not so easily done." He leaned his elbows on the table clasping his enormous hands. Amy notices that his fingers were long but blunt, with surprisingly clean nails. She wondered if it was wrong to find his hands attractive.

She had no idea how to reply to this, so she remained silent, slowly sipping her tea. She was beginning to wonder if they were going to sit here all night.

Without warning, Bane rose from his chair and turned to leave. Amy hurried to follow, abandoning her still mostly full cup. He stopped by the front door and turned to look at her with his hand on the door knob.

"Until we meet again, Miss Bloor." And just as suddenly as he had arrived, he left, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

* * *

After recovering from her general bewilderment caused by the ordeal, Amy poured her remaining tea into the sink. Her stomach was doing funny flips and there was an uncomfortable feeling settling into her spine. She honestly expected Bane to return any minute now, once again crushing her ability to think straight with merely a look.

Thankfully, he did not return. That did not stop Amy from flinching at the slightest sound all throughout her evening routine. She nearly poked her eye out washing her face. Finally bundled under the covers in the stillness of her dark bedroom, Amy floated into blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

Bane's cryptic parting words buzzed in her head all night, his face flitting in and out of her dreams.

* * *

The next morning Amy awoke rather late, far from feeling ready to face another day. Her dreams riddled with a deep accented voice and strangely elegant hands provided little rest.

Dressing for the day Amy contemplated her choice of activities. She decided against visiting the orphanage; she was still far too emotionally fragile for that. Instead she chose to visit the only animal shelter that was still – miraculously – running.

Today she wore skinny jeans, a dark blue blouse and military style high heeled booties. She applied her make-up with practiced precision. The whole time her mind remained blank. She had developed this coping mechanism a long time ago. She figured if she looked to be completely fine and in control, she would eventually convince herself that that was exactly how she felt. She didn't care that it was a form of denial, because despite the shrinks' critique, denial had become a constant and secure barrier between her and all the horrible things that would have otherwise left her a sobbing, broken mess. She wasn't ready to let go of that security blanket yet.

Pulling on her coat and buttoning it up, she left her apartment and locked the door. The action seemed redundant since she doubted a simple dead-bolt would hold against someone truly wanting to get in. Besides, it wasn't like she had any valuables left to protect.

The trip to the shelter was short, and blissfully uneventful. There was a fine dusting of snow in the streets, unnaturally early for early November.

The inside of the shelter was eerily quiet, even the animals appearing to have caught on to the dreary mood of the city. She nodded to the middle aged Hispanic woman sitting in the foyer, whose name she believed was either May or Mary. She wasn't very talkative - which given her current state Amy was thankful for – and was often the only one there. Amy suspected that she had made her home here, if the pile of blankets behind the reception desk was anything to go by.

Amy had not come empty handed and carried her plastic bag full of various animal foods to the back, where the cages were. Gothamites were not yet desperate enough to resort to eating pet food, so the grocery stores still had stock piles of it. She had even managed to scavenge a couple of bags of dog treats.

Due to the collective amount of animals from various shelters, each cage held two or three animals, miserably crammed together in the small space. Amy began the long process of opening each cage and letting the animals within out. They were happy to see her and waited patiently while she checked them over for injuries and groomed their furs. She checked that each animal had eaten, and then placed them back into their respective cages. All the animals were healthy and ate with enthusiasm, and the process took her well into the afternoon. Finally finished, and in a much better mood, Amy decided to return home for lunch. Leaving the remaining food by May/Mary who had dozed off with a magazine in her lap, Amy stepped outside.

There was a small cardboard box on the top step that seemed to be determinedly wriggling its way towards the edge. Intrigued, Amy gently lifted the box and opened the flaps. Inside was a fluffy white kitten with a black tail. Pulling him out and placing the box back on the stairs, she tucked the shivering kitten under her coat, where he began to happily purr. In mere minutes he was asleep.

The sight of the little guy so easily trusting her with his well-being pulled at Amy's heartstrings and without fully making the decision to keep the kitten, she found herself making her way home gently cradling him to her chest. She wouldn't mind having a friend at the moment, no matter how helplessly tiny.

The trek up the stairs of her building was twice as difficult with her tiny passenger, but at last she made it. Huffing with exertion and red faced she stumbled into her apartment, only to be greeted with a paralyzing sight.

"I was beginning to wonder if you had run away."

It seemed that the reunion with Bane came a lot sooner than she had expected.

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**Author's Note: **Here is chapter two! I cannot promise that all my updates will be this quick, but I can currently say that chapter 3 is already in the works! :)

Thank-you to all of you for your wonderful (and helpful!) reviews! It was incredibly exciting to see the enthusiastic response!

Once again, please, please, please comment! Bane is an incredibly difficult character to write so if you think that I made him seem out of character, or if there is something that I can do to make him more believable, please tell me!

-lavenderbreeze30


	3. Choices

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my own OC.**

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"You spare key was most useful," Bane said, sounding strangely light-hearted. Amy thought her hiding place for the key between the door frame and the wall was pretty crafty, but apparently not. She wondered if he was going to give it back to her. She didn't think she could ever feel safe here knowing he had full access to her apartment.

Ignoring the bait, Amy kicked off her shoes and pulled off her coat, careful not to dislodge the precious bundle of fur. If Bane noticed the kitten, he didn't comment. Instead he made his way towards her living room.

"You will change and you will join me." The clear command in his tone rubbed her the wrong way. She was also fairly certain that his recent constant proximity was making her ire harder and harder to control. If he kept it up, she would snap. And she doubted that that would be healthy for her.

Taking deep breaths she shuffled to her bedroom. Grabbing an old shoe box, she put a fluffy blanket in it, placing the equally fluffy kitten on top. Leaving the make shift nest on her bed for the moment, she stood in front of her closet contemplating. Deciding not to change was her mini rebellion. Besides she wasn't exactly thrilled at the thought of getting half naked with a terrorist in her apartment.

Once again grabbing the box and tucking it under her arm, she strolled into the kitchen. She filled a shallow dish with water and pulled a bag of kitten food – which she had thankfully left at home that morning – from under the sink. Pouring some of it into a small bowl, she placed both on the floor alongside the box. The kitten was still fast asleep.

Taking her time before finally going out to meet Bane made her feel slightly more in control, as well as a little paranoid. It probably wasn't a good idea to test his patience too much. Steeling herself and letting her face go completely blank, she finally walked into the living room. It had sustained the most damage when her apartment had been raided, and Bane fit right in amongst the half broken chairs and torn sofas. He was seated on her love seat, elbows on his knees, looking entirely at ease, although still holding that menacing air. There was a manila folder on the coffee table in front of him. He glanced over her unchanged outfit, but said nothing although when he looked her in the eyes again, they were a shade darker. Somehow getting to him, even slightly, made her irrationally smug.

Amy sat in the armchair across from him. Wordlessly he pushed the folder towards her. She took this as her cue to read it, and opened it. She was greeted with a picture of herself, aged twelve or thirteen. She was staring straight into the camera, unsmiling. Had she not known better, she would have said that it was a mug shot. Instead, she knew it was the identification photo they had taken at the girls' home she had lived in. Moving onward she found various photo copies of registration and medical forms, the psychological analysis she had had to go through upon entering the girls' home due to the nature of her parents' death, and finally a collection of photos in chronological order, starting with a repeat of the one at the beginning of the file and ending with one of her at eighteen, the only one in which she smiled. They had taken one each year, to mimic the photo day at regular schools. She'd disliked having her picture taken ever since.

Closing the file, she looked up at him. He had been watching her the whole time, most likely looking for her reaction to his snooping. He wasn't going to get one. She had come to terms with everything in her past a long time ago. It couldn't be used against her anymore.

"Explain the feline." The words caught her completely off guard. In fact for a moment, she wondered if she was hearing things.

"I beg your pardon?" He said nothing and continued to stare at her, not even seeming to blink. It made him seem even more predatory, his eyes never once leaving his prey. She really hated the fact that right now, she was his prey.

"The kitten I brought home today?" She inquired. She had no idea why that would be of interest to him.

"I was under the impression that that was the only cat present." The word _cat_ coming from his mask sounded absurd. She had no idea why, but it was probably because the huge man looked far from being a cat lover.

"There is only one. And I found him on the street, so I brought him home," she replied. Once again, he had completely and utterly bewildered her, leaving her without even a guess as to what the hell he wanted.

"And why would you do such a foolish thing?" His arrogance was making her snarky.

"It may have been foolish, but not all of us can leave the weak to die in the cold." Her voice was level and quiet, but her eyes were furious. She didn`t know if it was his domineering attitude or just the traumatic past couple of days, but something was making her feel recklessly stupid, which in turn made her stop fearing him. She didn`t want to find out if her fit of bravery would last if he attacked her physically.

His face didn`t change but he shifted where he sat, somehow making himself look bigger. She had irked him again, and instead of making her backtrack, it felt like a familiar victory. She wouldn`t have gotten to where she was without facing down a couple of assholes.

"You wouldn`t care for some tea would you?" It was an old and dirty trick. She knew he wouldn't take off the mask in front of her, be it because he couldn't or just didn't want to, it didn't matter. She had offered a jab as a polite question and had given him a choice: confront her and appear to have major anger issues (there was nothing to prove that she wasn't just purely angelic) or go along with it and accept a small sort of defeat. Bane chose option three.

"You do not seem disturbed by the file." Unfortunately Bane was too blunt and straightforward to care for her careful subtleties. He had thrown her off balance again, as she had thought that he would have wanted to put her in her place after such obvious refusal to submit to him. Her determination – for what exactly she had no idea – burned a little brighter.

"I have nothing to hide." Involuntarily her eyes drifted to the mask covering half his face. Briefly she had wondered why he wore it. Maybe it was purely for intimidation.

"Everyone has secrets, Ms. Bloor, even such a _saint _as yourself." He sounded jovial again. It pissed her off.

"Some of us more than others, wouldn`t you say?" The words were out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying, her tone sassy. He rose to stand, and she knew she had pushed too far. She stood up as well. Flight was never an option, so fighting it was. He walked around the coffee table and she turned to face him. He stopped within inches of her. He was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off of him. She was staring at his chest, covered by a long sleeved t-shirt and a complicated bullet proof vest. The line of his throat was strong and very masculine, the skin smooth. He smelled of gun powder and snow. Had he been a man she had met under normal circumstances, she would have been highly attracted.

He slowly raised his hand and almost gently grasped the back of her neck. If she was going to die, she would do it with dignity, so she craned her neck and looked him in the eye. He was tall enough that she was looking almost directly upwards, until he lowered his face closer to hers, so all she could see was the cold grey of his eyes and the harsh steel of the mask between them.

"It would be very easy indeed for me to end your life, Ms. Bloor," the fingers on her neck tightened the tiniest bit, "and I suggest that you learn to show me proper respect if you wish to survive."

"Respect is earned, not demanded," she ground out. She was ashamed to admit that despite everything, she couldn`t help but notice that his eyelashes were very long and ended in blonde tips, sparse enough to be masculine, but dark enough to make his eyes alluring. If it was the last thing she saw before she died, it wouldn`t be too bad.

"Are you saying that what I have done for Gotham is not enough for you?" He already knew her answer. She felt no need to verbalise it.

They stood like that for a long time, long enough for Amy to notice the scar cutting through his right eyebrow and to come up with a few theories for its origin. She had cut them down to glass shard or a close call with a knife when he finally released her neck, but did not step back.

"As entertaining as this has been, there are other places I need to be." He made no move to leave despite his words. Instead, it was Amy who turned her back on him and walked back to the kitchen, breaking that awful, deadly tension.

"Have a lovely day, Mr. Bane," she called over her shoulder. She found the kitten happily munching away, purring contentedly. After a few minutes of silence, she heard his heavy footsteps and the door shutting.

Only then did she remember that he had not returned her key.

* * *

After his departure, Amy realised she didn't dread his potential return nearly as much as she had before. She knew that today she had climbed some sort of invisible rung on a very long ladder. She had pushed herself high enough to no prove that she truly was not just an ordinary Gothamite, which although it meant he probably wouldn't leave her alone quite yet, also meant that he wouldn't mindlessly kill her unless she gave him reason. The rung she was standing on was very fragile, and if she fell, it would be into a shark tank.

* * *

**Author's note: **So recently I've been getting some concerned reviews about Amy becoming a Mary Sue, and hopefully this chapter served to prove that she does indeed have back bone! Please tell me if I went overboard and made her seem out of character, as well as, if I suceeded in writing Bane realistically.

Thank-you all again for the wonderful reviews. Words can't express how much I appreciate them! :)

And on a grammatical note, I am a little confused in terms of writing after a quotation mark. (ex: "This is a quotation**," he said**. The bolded part is what I'm talking about.) Does it always start with lower case? What about after exclamation/question marks? If anyone would care to clarify that for me, it would be great!

-lavenderbreeze30


	4. Honesty

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my own OC.**

* * *

The next two days passed in relative peacefulness. Amy finally ended up going to the orphanage, spending her time storytelling and helping distribute portions of food. She was pleasantly surprised to find that Bane had a part of the portions brought for the city set aside and delivered specifically to the orphanage. Perhaps he wouldn't blow the city to bits after all.

Guiltily, Amy had to admit that she didn't particularly like children. She much preferred the animal shelter, but there wasn't all that much to do there, and being used to a busy life style she needed to do _something_. Bane's arrival left her free from work and personal duties as a high standing Gothamite and gave her all the time in the world, but nothing she wanted to do with it.

It was when she was leaving the orphanage three days after Bane had last visited when she ran into him again. She had been checking her watch for the time and the change from the dim interior of the orphanage to the brilliant sunlight outside had blinded her. That was when she crashed into a hulking mass and landed flat on her ass. It _hurt_. Looking up, she couldn't make out his face, and only got a dark shape outlined by the sun. Somehow, she knew it was him, and her position on the ground made her feel very fragile. Despite having her ram into him, he looked entirely unperturbed.

Standing up and dusting the snow off of her bottom, she subtly climbed a step. It made her eye level with him and put some distance between them. However, it only took a second for him to catch onto her game and climb to stand on the step directly below hers, dwarfing her again.

"I do believe it is polite to apologize in such a situation," he drawled. He sounded amused, and she was quickly becoming tired of constantly making a fool of herself in front of him.

"Sorry." She attempted to make her way around him and escape, but he blocked her way with an enormous arm. The coat he was wearing was warm looking, but he had left it open and wore no gloves or scarf. Considering the heat just about radiating off of him, she wondered why he even bothered with anything but a t-shirt.

"Do not think that our meeting today is by accident." He moved to stand in front of her again. "You are coming with me." He turned to leave, apparently convinced she would automatically follow. She had the brief urge to run in the other direction and hide, but she doubted she would make it very far in high heels.

Sighing heavily she jogged to catch up with him, her footing unsteady on the icy road. She decided that if he ventured somewhere too shady, she would make a run for it, but for the time being it seemed more sensible to comply.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked. She had thought that if he wanted to meet her, he would just lurk at her apartment again. Instead, he seemed to have made it his mission to catch her unawares wherever and whenever he could. The island of Gotham had never felt so small.

"I have posted men to follow you," he replied. Amy`s jaw slackened. "You have a very repetitive routine. They had no trouble tracking you."

"You can`t just―" she started, but cut herself off. "Never mind. Of course you can. You`re _Bane._" He seemed like the type of guy to raise himself to Godly status. He disregarded laws just as much as personal space.

She only realized he had stopped walking when she smacked into his chest again. Thankfully, this time she didn`t fall. Unfortunately, the only thing that kept her upright was grabbing onto his coat. Big mistake. Before she could even blink, he had her wrists in a vice grip. The streets were empty and she didn't doubt that even if anyone had been there, they would not have stood up to Bane to protect her. Life sucked that way sometimes. She was pulled flush against him now, the hard material of his bulletproof vest digging into her ribcage. She didn`t dare make eye contact, because pissing off an already pissed off Bane sounded positively suicidal.

"I have told you to show me respect, and I am not a man who repeats himself," he said. His voice was almost soft and that was more terrifying than if he had yelled.

He leaned in closer still, so that his face was right by her ear. Her stomach had long ago stopped doing somersaults and had frozen into a ball of dread.

"Look at you, shaking like a deer," he rumbled. She felt the vibrations of his voice go through her. Unbelievably, she was noticing the enticing angle of his neck again and something inside her heated and made her breathing faster. With every second they stood there the tension wound higher. Somewhere in that endless space, Amy completely stopped thinking, instinct taking over. And instinct was often quite stupid.

Almost as if she was watching another person, Amy saw herself press her cold lips to his neck, the skin almost feverishly warm and surprisingly smooth. It wasn`t quite a kiss, just the pressing of flesh to flesh, but it was intimate enough to make her snap back to herself. Hesitantly, as if not to aggravate the situation any further she pulled back and lowered her eyes to the ground. She couldn't help but notice that her lips thrummed pleasantly.

After a moment, Bane, who had remained motionless the entire time, also straightened. He looked her in the eyes for a long moment, his expression unreadable.

"Interesting," he said. And without further comment he turned and continued walking.

* * *

The whole journey, Amy was too preoccupied with what had just occurred to pay attention to her surroundings. No matter how hard she tried to push it from her mind, it seemed she had memorised every single detail and refused to let go. Bane on the other hand, seemed to have easily moved on, and didn't say a word. In a way, she felt almost insulted. Surely he was human enough to experience sexual attraction.

"We have arrived," he said suddenly. Their destination turned out to be under a bridge with the frozen lake in front of them. Amy cursed herself, because she was sure they had passed multiple sketchy alleys getting here. She saw a group of people being shuffled to the edge of the bank and being cut free of the ropes binding their hands and feet. She doubted it would do them any good when they fell into the freezing depths of the lake.

Despite his size and uncommon appearance, Bane was unnaturally talented at blending in with the shadows. She on the other hand stood out like a beacon in her baby blue beanie and matching scarf. She noticed more than a couple guards giving her unsettling, hungry looks. She moved closer to Bane.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

"An experiment," was his reply. Clearly, he wasn't big on explanations.

Asking further questions would only be a waste of breath, so Amy huddled in her coat and watched the proceedings. Once everyone was freed of their bindings, they were roughly showed onto the ice and forced to walk. No one made it very far. The sudden disappearance of each person into the water was so abrupt it didn't make their death seem real. Amy didn't feel even a stirring of grief for them, and she could not be accused of being cruel or unsympathetic. There was something alien about death being so truncated.

"You seem strangely unperturbed for someone who could have been joining them." Bane's voice was unusually loud. Sometimes she wondered if there was a microphone in it that he could switch on and off at will.

"Their deaths don't feel real," she answered. She didn't care to filter what she said, considering that he probably killed people on a daily basis. And after all, honesty was the best policy.

"Even so, you did not attempt to stop their imminent ends." So this was the experiment. See how pure and good hearted she really was. She had never claimed to be an angel, no matter what he might have thought, so she did not for a moment feel ashamed. However, he was challenging her now, for something unsaid that was always sparking between them, and she wasn't one to back down. She turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It would do no good, and I would only be killed along with them."

"So your life is more important than that of others."

"Compared to strangers who I could not save anyway, yes. I do not believe in dying pointlessly when there could be a time when I could do something truly useful." She held her head high, looking into grey eyes hiding a mind constantly working and analysing, noticing and memorising.

"So you do not feel compassion for these people?" he questioned. He sounded sarcastically surprised, as if he already knew the answer. He was baiting her again, challenging.

"Compassion is only good in measured doses. I don't know why, but you seem to be under the impression that I am a saint. I am not. I did not ever do any more or less than anyone else with my resources." She felt like her whole life she had been breaking through the expectations set for her. It was a tiring and emotionally draining process, and she wished that for once, someone would care to figure her out before stamping her one kind of a person or another.

"Yet you are the only one with such 'resources' that the people of Gotham defended. The people sentenced today were your peers. There _is_ something that sets you apart."

"Maybe I'm just prettier," she blurted. It was stupid and childish, and Amy regretted it immediately. But the words were out and she had no choice but to stand her ground.

Bane's brows furrowed and he looked oddly disappointed. Amy supposed she should have been happy to have proven him wrong about herself, but she felt quite the opposite. Somehow she had taken herself from being a composed, strong woman to a selfish, mouthy brat. The rung she stood on creaked, bringing the shark tank into view again. She looked at her shoes.

"Come," he said and moved back the way they had come. She followed without question. They walked for a short while and Amy started to recognize streets near her apartment building. She hadn't expected him to walk her home. It seemed she wasn't the only one defying expectation today.

When they were about a block away from her building, he stopped. She assumed he wasn't quite done yet, so she stopped as well, a strange sense of shame making her unable to look him in the eye.

Bane raised his hand and gently, ever so gently, took her chin between his fingers tilting her head upward. He looked slightly confused, his brow furrowed and his eyes searching hers, as if they held the answer to an unasked question. The expression was so strangely vulnerable, so fundamentally human, that it stirred something inside Amy.

"Interesting, so interesting," he murmured almost to himself. Abruptly his expression changed back to indifference and he let go of her chin. Without another word, he walked off in an unknown direction.

Once again thoroughly confused, Amy made her way home, her mind filled with warm skin and vulnerable eyes.

* * *

**Author's note: **This chapter was quite hard to write, since some scenes were quite iffy in terms of realism. Personally, I get quite frustrated by stories that take a long time for Bane/whomever physical interaction yet I lose interest in stories that make that happen too quick. So, hopefully I managed to find that balance! Please, please. please review and tell me what was done well, what can be improved, or just your general impressions with the story so far!

Speaking of reviews, thank-you all so much for your awesome support! The explanations of post quotation mark grammar were great, so now it's all clear!

And finally, I would like to say that although I'm not very into action scenes, there will be one coming up very soon since I do realize otherwise the story would be quite dull :P.

-lavenderbreeze30


	5. Past, Present, All Mixed Up

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own OC.**

* * *

The next day, Amy decided she needed to do laundry. The electricity was unstable, and usually only worked for a couple of hours at a time, so Amy was once again forced to hand wash. Fortunately, the water always ran.

Despite having her fluffy companion – whom she had yet to name – the apartment felt overwhelmingly empty. Amy turned on her radio and found a station playing generic pop songs. It sounded scratchy since the reception towers in Gotham no longer worked and the signal came from across the lake, but it was better than nothing.

She filled the tub with water and added detergent, throwing in her dirty clothes. Kneeling, she set to work. The kitten showed up not two minutes later to sit in the doorway and observe her actions with huge eyes.

She had been working away for no longer than fifteen minutes when she felt the curious sensation of being watched. Looking over her shoulder, she leapt up shrieking, terrified of the enormous shape in the doorway. Her sudden change in position had her tripping and tumbling into the tub. It took a minute of flailing to finally regain her footing, but eventually she was once again upright, albeit probably resembling a drowned cat. Somewhere through the whole adventure she had realized that it was Bane who had showed up, and that if he had meant to kill her, she would already be dead. The fact that that was a comforting thought was quite scary.

The man in question looked entirely unimpressed with her display, and instead looked like he might be questioning her competence as a human being. She was about to start yelling at him for his constant need to terrify her - her willingness to resort to yelling at _Bane_ surely said something about how wearing the past couple of days had been - when she noticed that there was a fluff of white fur tucked between his right arm and his chest. She took a moment to enjoy the absurdity of the scene. Here she was, soaking and pissed off, dripping onto her bathroom rug, facing a completely at ease Bane, an equally content kitten in his arms. Where was the world going?

The anger she felt melted away and not being able to herself, she began to laugh. It felt good to laugh again, and she couldn't bring herself to stop. She had gone through too much, with too little coping time, to deny herself this little pleasure now. As she slowly calmed, Bane set the kitten on the ground, only for him to immediately begin rubbing against Bane's boots.

"Did you hit your head when you fell?" he asked.

"No, I didn`t. I just happen to believe in laughing when I find something funny," she replied. She squeezed past Bane to change into something dry, turning off the radio on her way.

"How very like you to appreciate impulsive behaviour." She heard the bait in his voice. He was referring to her momentary lack of reason the day before, the moment that had plagued her dreams all night. She whirled on him, furious. He was, of course, making assumptions again.

"I`ll have you know that what took place yesterday was completely out of character for me. It just goes to show how entirely _poisonous_ you are for anyone`s mental state." She had resisted the urge to get right in his face, instead keeping a good three feet between them.

"So you did not attempt to control me using your body?" he questioned. She could feel herself turn bright red at the insinuation.

"If you are accusing me of trying to whore myself out just to get on your good side, you are dead wrong, Mr. Bane, and I encourage you not to make that assumption again." Her small frame was shaking with anger, her hands curled into fists. Amy surprised herself with her sudden urge to punch something, preferably some part of Bane.

Bane did not reply, but instead watched her. He had that strangely confused look on his face again, and it made her anger burn brighter. She stubbornly refused to see him as anything but her sworn enemy.

"You are not usually so emotional, Miss Bloor," he said, "and I fail to understand what has made you so."

Instead of replying, Amy threw up her hands in a display of utter exasperation and stormed to her room. Angrily, she slammed her door and began to tear off her clothes, calling him every insult she could come up with in her head. She had a new sense of purpose expanding and filling her. What he was after seemed to be along the lines of figuring out what motivated her, made her tick. She realized that if she wanted to get rid of him and keep her sanity intact, she had to talk to him, let him get to know her and realize that she was not worth his interest. And then, she'd have her freedom.

Before leaving the sanctuary of her bedroom she took several deep breaths to calm down. It worked as it always had, and Amy proceeded to brush out her hair and pull it into a tight ponytail. She looked more like herself now, composed and in control. She hoped that she would start feeling that way as well.

She found Bane in her living room, seated on her love seat again, the kitten asleep beside his thigh. It was a disturbingly tranquil sight and despite herself Amy felt more at ease. He wasn't going to hurt her today, as long as she showed respect. The previous day's events made the lesson stick.

She sat in the armchair with a strange sense of déjà vu. Even the file he had brought the previous time remained untouched on her coffee table.

He looked out the window, his arms spread across the back of the couch. They sat in silence for a long time, only his breathing and the ticking of the clock breaking it. Amy noticed Bane's fingers tap out an odd, repetitive rhythm, quick and light, as if it were a chant of some kind.

"Tell me, Ms. Bloor, would you risk your life to save a child?" It was an odd question, but Amy had grown used to expecting the unexpected when it came to Bane.

"There are too many things that could affect my decision for me to give you a certain answer. What I can say, is that I am not like many who insist that they always do the right thing, and never actually follow through." She took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose and continued. "As you know, my parents died in a car crash. What you don't know is that while they died directly on impact, I was trapped with them for five hours before someone noticed our car and called for help. I was then put into an all-girls orphanage. I remember dozens of families coming to interview me and making promises of a forever home, right up until they found out about how my parents died. No one wanted to deal with that kind of baggage, despite the proof of my mental stability. It didn't take me long to realize that I lived in a world where I could depend on no one but myself. I can tell you Mr. Bane that none of the families that turned me away were bad people. They were ordinary people. And so am I. I cannot pride myself on being selfless. I, like any rational human being, like to know how much I will risk, for how much gain. Donating to and volunteering at shelters and soup kitchens gives someone else the chance to make this city better, for others as well as myself, with minimal loss on my part. Dying out there with those people yesterday, would have made no impact. And although I could not thank the people that saved me that day in the Court House enough, I cannot say that I think their efforts were worthwhile. I am only one person in a very large machine."

Throughout her speech, her hands had remained clasped in her lap, her gaze not wavering from the side of his face. Her words had been calm and steady, but despite what she told herself, the past was still painful to remember, and Amy could feel a sadness setting in her bones. He turned to look at her with unreadable eyes.

"You still yearn to regain your faith in the existence of true, selfless good," he said. "You may have convinced yourself that you have moved on, but you remain a child that was greatly disappointed and now seeks to find someone who will prove you wrong."

"I do not agree with you, Mr. Bane. I am not that naïve."

He continued to stare at her, lost in thought, although she didn't doubt that he was anything but entirely alert.

"What did you name the feline?" he asked suddenly.

"I didn't name him yet," she replied. She wondered why he cared.

Bane rose from where he sat and walked to the front door. Opening it, he turned and looked at the kitten.

"Name him Hope, for he is all that you have left, little angel."

Something in his tone made Amy understand that he had no intention of returning. The puzzle was solved, and he had lost interest.

* * *

After returning to her laundry and hanging it up on the line she had set up in her spare bedroom, Amy decided to go for a walk. She needed some fresh air to process her new found freedom. She circled her building, not going further than two blocks away from it, until she decided she may as well go to the nearest grocery store to see if there were any vegetables delivered. Lady Luck seemed to have turned her way again because she found plenty of tomatoes and celery that had just arrived. She had just finished taking her allowed portion under the watchful eye of the guard, when someone tapped her shoulder. She turned to meet hazel eyes set in a thin, pale face.

"Cassidy!?" Amy couldn't believe her eyes.

"Hey stranger." She smiled in an uncertain sort of way that was so familiar it hurt. Amy threw her arms around her friend in an uncontrollable burst of happiness. Cassidy was one of Amy's closest friends, one of the few people in Gotham that she had truly connected with.

At the guard's gruff bark at them to hurry up, the two young women broke apart and Cassidy collected her portion. Amy noticed that she had lost weight and her clothes looked dirty and torn, as if she had been sleeping in the street. Amy felt guilty for her own luxurious shelter.

Once Cassidy was done, they left the store and took shelter from the wind in a subway station, smiling like idiots.

"Where have you been staying?" Amy asked.

"There's a church where a bunch of us are hiding out. I found my parents and my brother there. It looks like it took a crazy revolutionary to bring us back together," Cassidy joked. Having turned her back on her family and their sizable fortune at an early age, Cassidy followed her dream of becoming a musician. Amy had always been impressed at the girl's undying enthusiasm no matter how unsuccessful she might have been at times.

"People are starting talk of overthrowing Bane and disabling the bomb or something," Cassidy continued, "but so far I've seen only one guy actually _doing_ something." She sounded bitter, and Amy couldn't say that she felt any different.

"Would it happen to be John Blake? I've run into him at the orphanage once or twice," Amy replied.

"Yeah, the Blake guy. Rumour has it that he's a cop, so I'm staying the hell away from him. I don't need any more trouble than this city is already in." Amy felt a sense of responsibility press on her shoulders. She had seen Bane almost every day. She had had plenty of opportunities to at least _try _to talk him out of what he was doing. However, it was pointless to cry over spilt milk.

"Enough with the depressing stuff, I want to show you something," Cassidy said and linked her arm through Amy's. The action was so normal, that for a moment, Amy let herself relax as she walked with her friend filling the time with idle talk of everything and nothing, as if it were any normal day in their blissfully ordinary lives.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I felt the overwhelming need to rectify the last chapter's mistakes, so voila!

Thank-you all for reviewing! The constructive critisism was very helpful because I can always use the perspective of a fresh pair of eyes! Please continue to review, I love to hear from you all!

-lavenderbreeze30


	6. Frenemies

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my own OC.**

* * *

Cassidy lead her to a short, dilapidated building, the top three floors reduced to rubble. They made their way through a door that Amy had not immediately spotted and into a nearly pitch black basement. After walking through a long winding corridor they came into a huge room that was once probably a night club. Now it was filled with bright light that radiated from dozens of lamps situated around the room and hung from the ceiling. However, the most dazzling aspect was the hundreds upon hundreds of wedding gowns hung on racks, women of all ages flitting between them. It was a strange but beautiful sight, so inspiring in its simplicity.

"Is this a wedding salon?" Amy asked incredulously. Marriage seemed like the last thing on anyone's mind.

"Yup. A lot of people really want something to make them feel like they'll survive, to have someone by their sides." Cassidy ventured further into the room, weaving through the people and racks with practiced ease.

"Do you come here a lot?" Amy asked. They passed several make-shift stages where brides twirled in dresses of all sizes and shapes. She spotted what looked like a change room area at the back, set up using white bed sheets hung over even more clothing racks.

"Yeah, I come here whenever I can. They can always use more help. I thought it might be something that would interest you." They had now reached another door and walked through it. Beyond it, it was even brighter, and several women were hunched over dresses, beading and sewing, holding an air of expertise.

"This is where they do alterations and organize new arrivals. A lot of those dresses out there came from women who had donated them. It's beautiful how love can bring people together even in the harshest of times," Cassidy said with a dreamy smile. She had always been a hopeless romantic at heart, another thing that had impressed Amy from day one. She doubted she could ever open up her heart with such innocent abandon.

"Lauren! Hi!" Cassidy was calling to a short, middle aged woman.

"Cassidy! Hello! And who is this?" Lauren had a motherly face and a welcoming smile which made Amy like her right of the bat.

"This is the friend I was talking about, the business pro. Lauren, Amy Bloor. Amy, Lauren Weiss." The two women shook hands and exchanged polite smiles.

"Oh isn't it just wonderful that you two found each other again! How lovely!" Lauren gushed. Something about the atmosphere of the whole place was so filled with a promise of chance that Amy couldn't help but grin.

"I've heard great things about you, Amy! Would you be interested in helping out?" Lauren asked.

"When do I start?" Amy replied, that morning's trauma already forgotten.

* * *

It turned out Amy could start right away. After a quick tour to indicate where she could find what kind of dress, Amy left her belongings in the back room, and tied the bright blue hanker chief that Lauren had given her around her neck so she could be easily identified as staff.

The day passed in a whirlwind of giggles and tears, both shed by the brides, while Amy stood back, feeling right at home in a professional role. She took only a brief break for a snack of tomato and celery that had been stored in the ice box kept in the back room. It was nearly seven o'clock when the salon had said goodbye to its last visitor for the day, nobody willing to venture the streets after night fall.

"Well, you are just the perfect girl for this, now aren't you, Amy?" Lauren cooed, giving the younger woman a light side hug. "You've made a lot of dreams come true today!"

Amy smiled. She wondered why she hadn't attempted some sort of volunteer retail job before. It was the perfect blend for her. She got to do something that made people happy, without having to involve her own emotions.

"Y'all head on home now, lovelies!" Lauren called with an airy wave and returned to the back room. A lot of the other staff had already left, and most of the lights had been shut off. Amy's feet were sore from a day of standing and she was looking forward to having a hot bath and a good night's sleep.

Once outside, Cassidy and Amy said their goodbyes, exchanging tight hugs, and headed towards their respective homes. They had made plans to see each other at the salon whenever possible, and Amy was genuinely excited at the prospect of another day that felt so extraordinarily normal.

The sun was rapidly setting and Amy picked up her pace. That was when she heard it. A slight thump, as if someone had tripped and slammed their foot down to regain their balance. Amy told herself not to panic; after all it could've just been someone who happened to walk behind her. However, when she didn't lose the person after making several sharp and abrupt turns, her heart began to race. She had caught a glimpse of her stalker. A black jacket, a black baseball cap and jeans. Probably a man. Amy didn't want to lead Mr. Baseball Cap to her building, but she didn't have anywhere else to go. Except…

Walking faster than before, Amy changed her course. She hoped that her constant turns hadn't set off the stalker. She was no more than a block away from her destination, relief making her giddy, when another man stepped out of an alley up the street. He started walking her way. Spotting another alley across the street, Amy crossed towards it. Both of the men did too. That was when she sprinted. She cursed her stupid choice of shoes as she skidded on ice and fell, her ankle screaming in agony. Quickly rising, Amy continued running. To her horror, she had run herself into a dead-end. She could see both men at the mouth of the alley. In vain, she shrieked for help, hoping that by some miracle she would be saved. However, the men were no more than a few feet from her now, the one who had come out of the alley holding a wicked looking knife. Amy pressed herself into the wall at her back, clutching her bag of leftover tomatoes and celery to her chest.

"Now, baby doll, no need to fear. We just wanna play," said Baseball Cap. He had a sick, greyish tint to his skin. The man with the knife barked out a laugh, switching the knife from one hand to another, its sharp edge glinting in the low light. Slowly they approached, as if prolonging the hunt. Amy shrieked again and flung her relatively heavy bag at the knife man's face while she flew at Baseball Cap. She had managed to distract the first and actually knock the second off his feet. She was flying down the alley, her hurt ankle forgotten, when someone grabbed the back of her coat and swung her around.

"You stupid bitch!" She saw a knife descend towards her and instinctively raised her arms to cover her face, screwing her eyes shut. She felt the knife cut through her coat sleeve and slash her right arm. Suddenly, there was a startled yelp and someone shoved her none too gently behind them. She tumbled to the ground, landing on her butt. Opening her eyes, she saw Bane holding Baseball Cap by his neck, his grey skin turning purple. The man with the knife lay dead at his feet, his neck turned at an unnatural angle.

In no more than a minute, Bane dropped her now dead stalker and crouched in front of her. He took her injured arm and inspected it, pushing back her sleeve.

"Th-th-thank-you. I-I-I was g-g-going home and they c-came out of nowhere and I t-tried to r-run and -" Amy cut off her blubbering. It didn't look like Bane was listening. She was close to tears, the adrenaline having left her system to be replaced with a horrible terror at what could have happened to her. Bane did not comment. He didn't even look her in the eyes. Instead he pulled her up by her good arm, causing Amy to hiss out in pain when she put pressure on her bad ankle. Noticing this Bane glared at her shoes.

"I would have thought that you had more sense than this," he growled. Not waiting for a response, he scooped her up bridal style ignoring Amy's half formed protests. Once it was clear that she had no say in the matter, Amy drew closer to his chest and cradled her wounded arm.

"Wh-where are you taking me?" she asked. Bane's warmth and the familiar sound of his breathing were making it easier for her to calm down. She felt momentarily appalled at herself, feeling so safe in the arms of a killer. But he had saved her, and the day was taking its toll, so she left her self-disgust for later.

"Your home, which, as it happens, is at the opposite end of the city. Explain."

"I was going to Court House. It was the most crowded place I could think of." Bane's long strides had them at her building in minutes. However, he did not leave her at the entrance as she had expected, and continued inside and up the stairs. Amy tried to protest again. All that achieved was Bane's hand squeezing her legs where he held them until it was painful. Amy whimpered and went slack in his grip. He loosened his own. The trek up the stairs never failed to exhaust Amy, but Bane didn't appear to be affected at all by the hundred or so steps he climbed.

When they were at her door, Bane adjusted his grip, holding her with his upper arm behind her back and his hand gripping her thigh. He dug around in his pocket with his free hand and produced her spare key, opening her door. She wondered why he had kept it.

He replaced his other arm behind her knees and walked in, letting the door shut behind him. The kitten excitedly weaved between his feet as he walked to the love seat and set her down.

"Where are your medical supplies?" Bane asked. Amy sat up.

"You've done more than enough. I can –" Bane's murderous glare cut her off. "Kitchen. Top drawer, left of the door."

He stalked off to the kitchen and Amy heard him opening a drawer and shuffling through the contents. The kitten trotted after him, automatically associating anyone in the kitchen with a prospect of food.

Bane reappeared laden with bandages, a bag of cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide.

"Remove your coat," he ordered. Unbuttoning her coat with one hand made the task difficult, but after a minute she had it off her good arm and was gently tugging it off the injured one. Once it was off, Bane kneeled in front of her, a massive thigh on either side of her suddenly tiny looking calves. He took her arm and pushed up the sleeve of her sweater. The wound wasn't as bad as she had thought, thanks to the thickness of her coat. However, there was a lot of blood, most of it dried and flaking. Bane cleaned it off with sure, quick movements, as if he had done this a million times before. Once the wound was clean he bandaged it, the shallowness of it thankfully not requiring stitches. Amy didn't think she could handle being attacked _and_ having her flesh sewn all in one day.

Once he was done he walked off to the kitchen to dispose of the bloodied cotton balls. When he was back he resumed his position in front of her.

"Take off your shoes and your socks." Amy wanted to protest again but his expression was still very pissed off. Instead she carefully unlaced the booties and removed her socks. Her right ankle was slightly swollen and red. She really hoped she hadn't messed it up too severely.

With the grace of an experienced doctor, Bane held her ankle in his massive hands, lightly twisting it this way and that, listening for her whimpers of discomfort. Seemingly satisfied he set her foot down.

"A light sprain," he concluded. "Refrain from walking on it as much as possible. Any other injuries?"

"No, I'm fine." Amy expected him to move away now, not place his hands on either side of her hips on the couch and lean forward. The position brought him very close to her. If he was trying to intimidate her, it was working. There was something very alive and angry in his eyes, something other than the icy determination she was used to. She swallowed, locked in his gaze like a mouse in that of a python. She shut her eyes, hoping to regain her ability to think.

"For all your strength, you are so very fragile, aren't you angel?" he murmured. Amy shivered.

"Why did you save me?" she asked, her voice dispersing some of the tension. It had been pestering her the entire way home. She was afraid that he would expect some kind of payment in return. Had he been any other man, she knew what he would have wanted. However, he was not just any man. He was too disciplined, too complex, to be pacified by something as basic as sex. She sincerely hoped she was not wrong about him, because she was feeling very vulnerable in that moment and she doubted she would have the energy to say no if he tried anything.

"I was not saving you. Rather exacting justice on those who hoped to evade it," his voice was quiet, whispering across the distance between them.

"But you brought me home, and took care of my injuries. That was purely for me." The heat radiating of him was intoxicating.

"Perhaps you remind me of someone. You hold the same stubborn fire." It took a moment for Amy to process the words. She opened her eyes intending to ask him what he meant, but he was already gone, only the soft click of the door signaling that he had been there at all.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Oh Bane, you're so confusing. :P

Thank-you all for your wonderful, and incredibly helpful, reviews! Hopefully I succesfully took your constructive critisism and fixed anything that needed fixing!

Please continue to review, because I love to hear anything and everything!

On a side note, the action scene in this chapter is not the promised one, because this one is very short and not at all that exciting :P.

-lavenderbreeze30


	7. Equals

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my own OC.**

* * *

Amy regretfully realized that with her new bandage a bath was out of the question. Instead she found a plastic bag and placed it over her injured arm, taping it down. She kept her arm outside of the shower curtains the entire time to be absolutely certain that it would not get wet. That, coupled with the sprained ankle she couldn't stand on, left Amy like a particularly yoga enthusiastic stork. Needless to say the ordeal was frustrating and far from the relaxation Amy had hoped for.

The only upside of the exhausting day was that as soon as her head hit the pillow, Amy was sound asleep. Her dreams were full of nonsense that only ever made sense in sleep, because never would she ever really think of Bane as anything like a friend.

* * *

The next morning, Amy was roused by an insistent knocking. She grabbed a robe to throw over her tank top and panties before limping to the door. As a habit, she checked the peep hole. She saw a bearded man, probably in his early thirties, his impatient knocks not reflecting in his strangely amused face. Judging by the little of his military style shirt that she could see, he had been sent by Bane. She was about to tip toe back to her room and pretend she wasn't home, when the mystery man spoke.

"I know that you are home. Get dressed and meet me outside. Bane wished to speak to you." He had a slight accent, something European, like Russian or Romanian. When Amy checked the peep hole again, he was gone. She was getting really tired of men that just assumed she would follow like a good little puppy.

Amy brushed her teeth and got dressed in blue jeans and a maroon cable knit sweater. Deciding against her usual booties, she dug up an old pair of running shoes from the back of her closet. If it was Bane who wanted to see her, there would be a lot of walking involved, and she was already at a disadvantage with her hurt ankle. After pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, she put on minimal make-up. She might have been ready to abandon her prettiest shoes, but she wasn't about to completely let practicality take over. Feeding the kitten and gulping down a granola bar, Amy grabbed her coat and made her way down the stairs. Her limping made an odd rhythmic sound on the stairs that was very different from her usual confident stride.

The bearded man, or rather mercenary, judging by the huge gun slung over his shoulder, was waiting for her in front of the building. When he heard the door open, he gave her a creepy little smile, as if they were enjoying an inside joke, and set off. Amy rolled her eyes. Of course only the mildly insane worked for Bane.

It wasn't too long until Amy realized that they were headed towards the Court House, and although she wasn't thrilled at the prospect, she knew that that was where Bane spent most of his time. Or so they said, anyway.

The guards surrounding the Court House moved aside to let her and her escort pass, giving the latter respectful nods. She figured that he must have been above just any regular mercenary, probably a little more trusted by Bane. She mused over that for a minute, making a mental note to remember that in case it came handy later.

No sooner had they entered the building, the massive doors shutting behind them, that all hell broke loose.

The room was suddenly filled with screams and gun fire, Amy being unable to pinpoint where either was coming from. She was about to bolt outside fearing getting trampled by the panicked crowd, when the bearded man grabbed her by the elbow and shoved her against the nearest pillar. He draped his body over hers and began firing at seemingly random targets behind the pillar. His gun was one of those that fired continuously, although Amy had no idea what it was called, but at the moment that didn't matter. What did matter was that it was right by Amy's ear and the sound of it deafened her. All around them people swarmed, shrieking, shoving each other, trying to get out. Amy was suddenly thankful for her human shield and the solidity of the stone behind her. Alone, it was likely that she would have already been dead. The bearded man had stopped firing, and pulled away from her. He shoved what Amy identified as a sawed off shotgun at her, his face frighteningly serious. She had thought that he would enjoy the chaos.

"Stay here!" he yelled over the din and disappeared into the crowd. Amy started hyperventilating. She had never fired a gun, and she doubted that she would actually be able to shoot some even if she knew how. She had never been the violent type. Seeing no alternative, she shut her eyes and crouched down, hugging the cold metal of the weapon to her chest and hoping for the best.

It was only a minute or two before both the screaming and the gun shots died down completely. Amy's eyes shot open when she was roughly yanked to her feet by her elbow. It was the bearded man again. He grabbed back his shotgun, attaching it to his utility belt. Not letting go of her elbow, he made his way to the doors. His grip was strong and Amy was still too disoriented and woozy to protest being manhandled. His pace was brisk as he led her out of the building and down a snow covered street. There were fewer guards out on the steps now, most of them having run inside. Amy didn't see any civilians either, which made her wonder just how long the whole confrontation had taken.

Amy had to do a limp-jog to keep up with her escort, his much longer and clearly undamaged legs covering the ground faster than hers. Several times she slipped on ice hidden underneath the snow further agitating the sprain and nearly dislocating her shoulder thanks to the man's hold on her elbow. Every time, he pulled her up again and gave her a disgusted look before continuing on.

They finally reached a tall glass building and entered to find at least a dozen guards scattered throughout the lobby. She was confused as to why they were congregating here until the bearded man hit the glossy button situated beside an equally shiny elevator door. If the elevators worked here then this wasn't just a regular building inhabited by civilians. This must have been Bane's army's headquarters, if not where the masked man himself stayed.

Once the elevator dinged to a stop in front of them, Amy and the man stepped inside. He jabbed the button for the top floor, and finally let go of her arm. Amy rubbed her sore shoulder, grateful that he hadn't disturbed her bandaged forearm.

During the awkward ride up Amy noticed that the bearded man had that strangely amused look on his face again. She sincerely hoped that he wasn't bipolar.

The doors opened to reveal a well-lit hallway with only two doors. He led her to the one on the right and opened it with a key that he pulled out of his pocket. Inside it was what one would expect from a pent house in the center of Gotham. The floors were marble with thick white carpet marking the change from the living room area full of fine leather couches to the gleaming silver of the kitchen. Huge shining chandeliers followed the curve of a beautiful spiral staircase in the corner of the room. For all this luxury, the space was strangely lacking of decorations.

The bearded man trotted away down a hallway to her left. Amy hesitated at the door, wondering if she should take her shoes off. The man hadn't, but she only went as far as the nearest chair, and sat down to rest her poor, abused ankle. He wasn't gone very long and when he came back he was carrying medical supplies. He didn't even blink as he stomped over the pristine carpet leaving a dirty trail in his wake. Amy flinched. She was slightly OCD when it came to cleaning. He dumped the supplies on the mahogany coffee table and returned to the door.

"Stay here. Bane will come to see you," he stated and left before she had a chance to even open her mouth. He really needed to work on his social skills.

After feeling incredibly uncomfortable walking around in her outdoor shoes, Amy took them off and set them neatly by the door. She folded her coat over the back of the nearest chair. There was a considerable amount of slush that had cumulated by the door and that had been tracked around the apartment, so with lack of anything better to do, Amy set off to look for a mop. She found one in a broom closet at the end of the hall the mercenary had gone down, along with a bucket and carpet cleaner. She filled the bucket with warm water in the kitchen, also grabbing a towel. It didn't take long to wash the floor, the white marble once again shiny and perfect.

After carefully reading the instructions on the carpet cleaner, she scrubbed the carpet using the towel she had grabbed earlier. Once she was done, the pristine room making her smile, Amy found the laundry room, throwing the towel in the laundry basket. After stowing away the cleaning supplies, she decided to explore.

There were two bedrooms on the first floor, both seemingly untouched. There was also a huge bathroom, following the theme of marble and silver, making it good enough for royalty. She wouldn't have been surprised if the toilet had been in the shape of a throne.

She had just finished organizing the medical supplies the bearded man had left in the living room when the door flew open, slamming into the wall. Amy yelped and whirled around to see Bane stumble in. _Stumble. _He was covered in blood, his or someone else's she didn't know. When he saw her, he let loose a frustrated growl, as if just remembering an annoying errand, and trudged to the nearest couch, dropping onto it. He put his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees and went completely still, barely even seeming to breathe. Amy stood frozen where she was, her hands limp by her sides. She had no idea what had caused the incident at the Court House, but she assumed that at some point Bane had gotten involved. Obviously, it didn't make him happy.

He was also obviously in pain, if the rigid set of his shoulders were anything to go by, and she knew that pain often made people violent. Considering how dangerous he was without provocation, it was in Amy's best interest to get him to calm down and perhaps feed him some pain killers. Slowly she approached him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. His reaction was instantaneous. His head shot up and he had her wrist in a painful grip, his eyes furiously burning into hers. Swallowing down her panic, Amy forced herself to relax.

"You need medical attention," she said simply. She hoped she wasn't about to get herself killed.

"I am competent enough to treat myself," he said. He let go of her and grabbed for the nearest package of gauze. His hands were shaking slightly, and he had a hard time opening it.

"Here, let me." She made to take it from him, only to have him slap her hands away. He rose to his feet, towering over her.

He stared at her for ages, his eyes alive and spitting sparks. She noticed the dark shadows under his eyes and the slight crow's feet just beginning to form at the corners. Without saying a word or a change of expression, he removed his coat, bulletproof vest and the thick long sleeved shirt. Once it was all off he dropped back onto the couch, his eyes blank and distant. She hoped that this was his way of letting her treat him.

To her relief, his wounds were all shallow. The thought of sewing flesh made her cringe. She was definitely not cut out to be a doctor. There was a long gash on his lower abdomen just above the hem of his pants and multiple smaller cuts along his collarbone, where the vest presumably ended. Bane was practically covered in blood, so Amy went to the kitchen for a bowl of water and some paper towels. Wetting a piece, Amy set about working.

It took her three changes of water and nearly an entire roll of paper towels to get him clean. When she was done with that and ready to treat his cuts, Amy had to keep her eyes from wandering. Bane was very well built, and without the blood in the way she could see that he had massive muscles that weren't defined enough to appear vain, but big enough to make him a solid wall of rock. He had relaxed somewhat while she had been cleaning him off, and now had his eyes closed. He looked strangely tired, almost vulnerable.

Amy kneeled on the couch beside him, and used a cotton ball doused in hydrogen peroxide to start on the cuts at the top of his chest. Once those were clean, she put Polysporin on each one, deciding that they would heal fast enough to not require bandaging. She couldn't help but notice how Bane's hands had tightened into fists as her fingers massaged the cream into his skin.

Only the gash on his lower abdomen was left. Seeing no other way to approach it comfortably, Amy stood in front of Bane and gently grasped one of his knees, pushing it away from the other. In a split second he had his hand around her wrist again, his eyes wild.

"What exactly do you think you are doing?" His voice was low and menacing, making Amy shiver with an odd mix of fear and something infinitely more dangerous.

"I need to get the cut on your stomach. I can't bandage it from the side." For a moment they shared another staring contest. When she thought that he would tell her to get lost he simply let her go and leaned back into the couch cushions, closing his eyes and spreading his legs apart. Carefully, her cheeks flaming, Amy knelt between them, trying very hard not to think about how suggestive the pose was. She was no virgin, but there was something so _male _and so_ powerful_ about Bane that it made her feel inexperienced and innocent all over again.

Hesitantly she cleaned the wound with yet another cotton ball. She spotted medical tape to fix a bandage in place. She was almost done, when she realized that his pants were in the way of the bandage's un-taped bottom. Amy had no choice but to boldly shove the hem down. Doing so revealed that the hair trailing from his belly button thickened and darkened here, as if taunting her to follow it. Her face scarlet again, Amy quickly ripped off a piece of tape with her free hand and attached the last side of the bandage. As she ran her hand over the final piece of tape to make sure it was fully glued down, her fingers grazed Bane's overly warm skin. He jerked under touch, emitting a low, strangled sound. Startled, Amy stood, noticing that his eyes were squeezed shut, his brow furrowed as if he was having some intense internal battle.

Leaving him be, Amy went into the kitchen to wash her hands and dispose of the used medical supplies. When she came back, Bane was pulling on his shirt, his back to her. There was something almost nervous about his movements. He headed for the staircase, his gait somehow awkward, as if he was putting his feet too far apart.

"Wait! What happened at the Court House today?" Amy was still bewildered about the entire day.

"A minor rebellion. Nothing of consequence." His voice had a rumbling quality to it, igniting something primal in Amy.

"So I can go home?" Amy noted that she sounded entirely too hopeful.

"It is nothing of consequence _for me_. You will undoubtedly get yourself killed. We have matters to discuss so you shall stay here until I say otherwise. You may have any bedroom on the first floor."

"I can't just - my cat!" It seemed like the silliest thing to say, but Bane was quickly ascending the stairs and she had blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"I will have Barsad take you back to your apartment to pack your essentials," he replied before finally mounting the stairs, his thundering footsteps sounding overhead.

Feeling confused and tangled, Amy was about to plop onto the couch when she realized that it was now covered in blood. The floor and the carpet had Bane's huge shoe prints engraved in mud and slush. Sighing, Amy set about cleaning again.

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**Author's note: **So, this is another chapter in which I took some risks in terms of Bane behaviour. Please tell me how well he was portrayed in the reviews!

Thank-you all for taking the time to review, favorite and follow. Your support means the world to me! :)

-lavenderbreeze30


	8. Forces Collide

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my own OC.**

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An hour later, Bane reappeared on the stairs. While cleaning, Amy had moved the discarded coat and vest to a chair and had carried her own jacket to the bedroom closer to the front door. She didn't think she had the slimmest chance of escape but planning never hurt. When Bane found his clothing neatly folded on the chair he gave her a brief unreadable look before walking out the door. His shoes hadn't ruined the carpet this time and Amy could only assume that he had managed to leave all the dirt somewhere upstairs. She decided that she wouldn't venture up there for the sake of her mental health.

Bane was gone only a few minutes before he returned with the bearded man in tow.

"Barsad will take you to your home. Make haste, Miss Bloor," he said. He was just about to venture into the room with freshly snow covered boots, when Amy leapt up from her place on the couch.

"Don't!" she exclaimed. She hadn't meant to shout, or make any remark at all, but it was too late now since Bane had frozen where he was, watching her intently. Barsad's hands had moved to his weapon and he was looking just as serious as he had been at the Court House. Shit.

"I…I'm sorry…uh…it's just that I just washed the floor…and the carpet…so…please…" The room was awkwardly quiet, the tension thick enough to make Amy's head feel like it was going to explode. Bane stared at her unwaveringly, his eyes coldly focused. Amy clasped her hands and ducked her head.

"Sorry…I'm sorry…" He still hadn't moved and Amy was starting to sweat. She was so dead now.

"Tidiness is nothing to be apologetic for," he started, "however…" He had started to make his way towards her, without removing his shoes. Amy didn't dare move or raise her eyes.

"However," he repeated, "this is my home, not yours. It is very bold of you to pronounce rules in a kingdom that does not belong to you."

He was right in front of her now, only a few inches of space separating them.

"I didn't mean-" Swiftly he brought his hand up and grabbed her chin forcing her to simultaneously shut her mouth and lift her head. His eyes were terrifyingly calm.

"Oh, but you did. I will make sure that you do not forget yourself again." Amy tried to keep a straight face while preparing for the worst. However, the worst did not come and Bane coolly let go of her and stepped aside, letting her pass.

"Do not fear, Miss Bloor, that comes later. In the meantime follow Barsad." He sounded utterly amiable, as if he had just commented on the weather instead of her threatening her with her impending doom.

Not wishing to test him, Amy scurried by and nearly sprinted to her new room to get her coat. When she came back she could hear Bane walking around upstairs and saw Barsad observing the room with his familiar amused expression. The storm had passed for now.

After she put on her shoes, her and the creepy mercenary took the elevator down and began their journey to her apartment. It was just starting to get dark and Amy was thankful for her companion. She did not want a repeat of the events of the night before. Her ankle still hurt, but since Barsad didn't seem to be in any hurry she was able to slowly keep up with him despite her limp.

The stairs were another matter. Barsad, like Bane, took them like they weren't even there. Amy, on the other hand, was panting and cursing a good two floors behind him. Around the tenth floor when Amy was ready to pass out, he trotted back down to her and silently threw her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes. Amy would have protested if she had had any breath to do it with. The rest of the journey was uncomfortable with quite a few close calls concerning Amy's head and a wall. She was starting to wonder why Barsad hated her so much.

He carried her all the way to her door before unceremoniously dumping her on the floor and wandering away down the hall. How someone as spontaneous as him worked for Bane, she had no idea.

Inside, she was greeted by the kitten, meowing for all he was worth. It was well past his usual feeding time and he was letting her know just how irked he was with that. She scooped him up and after taking off her shoes went into the kitchen and poured some food into his bowl. When the kitten was happily munching she left him to go pack. Tossing her coat onto the bed, she pulled a duffel bag from her closet.

She packed lots of warm clothes, including several sweaters and a second coat. She picked her favorite panties and bras. If she was going to be forced into the company of Bane for several days she would at least have that comfort. She packed two pairs of jeans and all her pairs of fuzzy socks, as well as regular socks. Finally she gathered all her essential make-up and a hairbrush. When she was done, the duffel bag was nearly bursting at the seams. It was very heavy for something that contained mainly clothes and Amy had to drag it on the floor to get it to the front door.

Next, she looked for something to transport the kitten in. He had been living in the safety of her apartment for a good week now, so she doubted he would appreciate the outside world. That meant that she couldn't carry him in her coat. She didn't have a cat carrier, so a shoe box with holes in the lid would have to suffice. It wasn't the most pet friendly transportation but she had no other choice. She lined the inside of the box with a small blanket to keep the fur ball warm, as well as several treats to keep him happy. She put some of his food and litter into a plastic bag. Regretfully she realized that she was ready to go back to Bane now.

Putting the now contentedly full kitten into his box, she swung the duffel bag over her shoulder and tucked the box under the same arm that help the kitten's supplies. Opening the door with some difficulty, she found Barsad already waiting for her. Without a word he pulled the duffel bag off her shoulder and hung it across his body. The bag was highlighter pink, contrasting wildly with his military outfit. Amy hid a grin by turning away and locking her door.

"Will you be able to manage going _down_ the stairs?" Barsad asked. He sounded positively mirthful.

"Yes. I can't promise I'll be fast but I'll make it," Amy replied. Her ankle throbbed once as if in agreement.

Trying not to disturb the box made limping down the stairs even harder, but not impossible. Barsad flew down the stairs and was out of sight in seconds, and Amy heard him leave the building. She really hoped he hadn't left her completely.

To her delight, he was waiting outside and when she joined him, he took off at a leisurely pace. Amy couldn't decide if this was his sneaky way of insulting her or not, because she saw no reason for him to be nice to her.

While she had been packing the sun had set, so it had to be early evening now. Amy was surprised at how fast the day had flown by.

In Bane's apartment, Barsad set her bag by the door and left. Bane wasn't in the main room, and seeing no reason to quicken her reunion with him she chose to unpack first. She set the kitten's box on the ground and took off the lid. Not hesitating for a second, the kitten sauntered out and went exploring, sniffing everything in his path. At least one of them wasn't entirely traumatized by this.

After removing her coat and shoes, Amy dragged her duffel bag as well as the kitten supplies to her new, hopefully very temporary, bedroom. Deciding not to unpack completely, she shoved a couple of essential clothing items into a drawer. She had packed a couple of pairs of shoes, including her favorite booties. She returned to the main room to put them by the door, and found Bane sitting at the coffee table reading a file of some sort. Without lifting his head he motioned to the couch opposite him with a hand.

"Sit," he ordered. Obediently, she did as she was told. For a long time he just sat there, reading whatever it was. To keep herself entertained, Amy studied his mask. It had an abundance of tiny clasps and tubes, side by side with thick straps and metal grating. She wondered where he had had it made, because it was obviously top of the line engineering.

Slowly he raised his head and looked at her, setting the file down. She saw that it was the file on her.

"Wait, that's still at my apartment. Did you make another copy?" she asked.

"If you had been more attentive, you would have seen that I had taken it after tending your wounds," he replied. He was _so_ patronizing her. She felt her cheeks redden in embarrassment. Not because she hadn't noticed that he had taken the file, but because she remembered how close she had been to jumping on him. She was determined to get it together.

"It is difficult to notice anything when you are present, Mr. Bane. You are hardly forgettable." Her words were crisp and filled with chilly venom.

Without replying he rose and walked into the kitchen, returning with new bandages. She didn't dare move as he squatted in front of her again, caging in her legs with his own. Somehow, they were communicating without speaking. He was going to change her bandage, so she extended her injured arm. As he tried to push up her sleeve, it turned out that it was too tight, and would not move high enough. He released her arm and looked up at her.

"You will need to remove your shirt," he stated calmly as if he wasn't asking her to get half naked for him. Amy blushed again.

"I can just change into a short sleeve shirt. It'll only –"

"I do not have time for your foolish modesty Ms. Bloor. Take off your shirt, or I will do it for you," he interrupted. Staring at him with a panicked expression, Amy realized that he meant every word.

"You'll do just about anything to make me uncomfortable, won't you?" she hissed. Immediately something changed in Bane's eyes and he rose to his full height. Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, he pulled her to her feet. Without a moment's hesitation he tore the thin material in half. Yelping, Amy tried to cover herself only to have him tear the now shredded shirt completely off, leaving her shivering and helpless in front of him. Amy was frozen in place, her arms wrapped around her chest. She was reminded once again that Bane was a man, and if he wanted to rape her, she was powerless to stop him. She couldn't stop the tears that leaked down her face.

Keeping her face down, she waited for his next move. With contrasting gentleness, he pushed down on her shoulder with a hand to make her sit down. She did so without protest. He crouched as well, reaching for her injured arm. Amy flinched away from him, misreading his intention. Undeterred, he reached for her again, taking her arm and removing the bandage. Amy was too frightened the entire time that her arm was re-bandaged to even look at her wound. She could only hope that it was healing all right.

When he was done, Bane released her arm but didn't move. Amy was struck with a strange sense of déjà vu, except this time she refused to be victimised and looked him in the eye, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

Bane's eyes were unreadable as always. He extended a hand and rested it on her shoulder, palm up, his fingers just barely brushing her cheek.

"If I intended to kill you, I would have done so, Ms. Bloor," he said quietly.

"There are worse things than death," she whispered back. "Sometimes it is surviving that is more frightening."

His eyebrows rose and he looked genuinely surprised, yet impressed. His eyes seemed to be seeing, but not seeing her at the same time, as if he was trying to remember _her_ past. It was a strange sensation to be looked at like that, like she was a fascinating and rare bird whose existence was inexplicable in this grey and ordinary world.

"Such a curious, curious, little angel you are," he mumbled. His fingers brushed against her neck, his eyes following the movement. Her breath hitched. "So easily distracted." His eyes returned to hers and she knew he saw the fiery anger at being trapped that burned inside her. "Yet so incredibly determined."

He leaned in closer to her, their faces inches apart. There was nothing romantic about his touch or proximity. Instead, he reminded her of a scientist observing a particularly strange set of results that he had not expected from his experiment. Bane's utter detachment from basic human emotion was both intriguing and horrifying.

Growing tired of being so easily manipulated by him, Amy raised her hand and placed it over where his heart was without breaking eye contact. It was strong enough that she could easily feel it, the rhythm slow and measured just like the man it belonged to. Not satisfied with his lack of reaction, Amy let her hand wander downwards, slowly and teasingly. She had almost reached his pants when he let out a hiss and grabbed her wrist. Before he could say anything, Amy spoke herself.

"The same can be said for you, Mr. Bane." They stayed like that for what felt like hours. She had climbed another rung on her ladder, broken another wall that could not be rebuilt. Touch was obviously a big deal for Bane, and he wasn't someone who allowed it easily. She could use that to her advantage somehow, but she would be walking a very narrow line. She wasn't sure she was ready to know where it led.

Swiftly, Bane rose and mounted the stairs. Before he was all the way up, he turned and looked at her.

"Being a woman does not give you power over me, Ms. Bloor. It is those that use cheap tricks to lure in their victims that ultimately find themselves the prey, and not the predator."

And with that, he was gone.

* * *

That night, he did not return downstairs. The long day finally caught up with Amy and in an hour or so, she was bundled up in bed. She felt fine, until she turned out the light.

For years after her parents died, she suffered from severe night terrors. Sometimes they were so bad that she would see flashes from them even in daylight. During the day, however, there were others there to ground her, remind her that it was okay, it was over. At night, she would sweat and toss and turn, fluttering between consciousness and unconsciousness, feeling exhausted and defeated in the morning.

It had gotten better over time, the orphanage shrink teaching her coping methods and breathing techniques.

Tonight, the nightmares were back full force. They were never clear images, but rather snippets of events, almost like she was rapidly flipping through pictures. She saw guns and heard screaming, she was deafened as she tried to breathe into constricted lungs, her head spun as she heard the sound of a body hitting the ground. Dead. People disappeared into the ice. Shreds of a shirt lying at her feet. A familiar car. Rain. More screaming. Faster and faster they spun in her head, before suddenly slowing and stopping, disappearing all together.

She didn't wake up fully, remaining in that state of semi-awareness, but she knew that the warm hand on her back and the quiet words whispered in a language she didn't understand were real. They anchored her, made her feel safe, allowed her to let go of the fear. The last thing she registered was turning over and curling next to a warm figure sitting on the side of her bed.

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**Author's Note: **I'm sorry that this chapter took so long! Life likes to get the busiest when inspiration strikes :/.

Thank-you, as always, for the wonderful reviews! I look forward to seeing what you guys think of this chapter! :)

-lavenderbreeze30


	9. Memory Lane

**Disclaimer: I do not own anythign except my own OC.**

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As soon as Amy had turned eighteen, she had moved to Gotham. She had been born and raised in New York and as much as she loved the city, it was riddled with memories of her life before her parents died. Gotham had been the perfect choice for her. It was big enough a city to make her feel at home, but different enough from New York to not remind her of her past.

Her parents had invested in a very good life insurance. Due to their tragic death, Amy had received a million dollars each upon becoming a legal adult. With this money, she had lots of room for opportunity. She attended Gotham University for a bachelor's degree in Business and Commerce. She had been a top student, graduating a year early due to her academic success. While in her third year, she had had an internship at Wayne Enterprises that she remembered with both joy and regret. At the time, Wayne Enterprises was still doing well financially, and the people there were welcoming and the best at what they did. After her graduation, she had been offered a high paying job there, but declined it in favor of starting out on her own. She later realized that had she stayed at Wayne Enterprises, she would have been there right from when it began to crumble. She couldn't help but wonder if there would have been something she could have done to stop it from breaking down.

Her business of choice was a network of bakeries. Her mother had loved baking and Amy had learned all that she knew from her. She saw her pursuit as a dedication to her parents' memory, but also as a celebration of her achievements on her own.

She started with just one. It had been in the Narrows and was a frightening experience. The bakery's hours depended not on a schedule, but on when the sun set. It wasn't wise to stay out after dark.

She remembered having to do almost everything herself. She prided herself on being a perfectionist, even if sometimes that led to unbelievable stress and sleepless nights. She spent hours upon hours at the bakery, imagining and creating new pastries and cakes, playing with color and flavor and even scent. It didn't take long for her business to flourish.

In months, she was already opening a second bakery, this time in downtown Gotham.

Today, just two years after graduating, she had 22 bakeries, most of them in North America, but several in Europe as well. When Bane had shown up, she had been days away from leaving Gotham to open yet another bakery, this time in Japan. However, she doubted that that would happen now. Even if Bane didn't blow up the city, it would take years to get everything back in order, and even longer to renew her deal with her Japanese partners.

As soon as the news report showing Bane blowing up the football field had appeared on her television, Amy sat down and typed up her will, e-mailing it to her lawyer in New York. She hoped that that would be sufficient to be considered a legal document, since she didn't know if she could mail a letter. Thinking about what she wanted to have happen after her death left Amy with a hollow feeling inside. She had never expected to die prematurely, although she doubted anyone did. She couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. Perhaps that strange drowning feeling was what caused her to will her various belongings to only one person.

The closest she had had to family after her parents had died were the people at the orphanage, her parents having no siblings and her grandparents having already passed away. The orphanage was called The Sparrow's Wing. It was a run-down, two story building with over fifty children crammed into tiny rooms, three or four in each one. Although she had never felt particularly attached to the place, as an adult, she donated to it regularly. Dwelling on her time there, she could not imagine what it would have been like if her only home had been taken away from her. She didn't want someone to have to go through that. So, she gave enough to make sure they could keep running, always anonymously. She didn't want to make a public spectacle of where she came from. She wanted to hoard that sacred place for herself, leave it untouched and pure in the safety of her memory.

Her will had been very short; everything was to be sold, and the money transferred to Rebecca Lewis, the janitor at Sparrow's Wing orphanage. Ms. Lewis, as Amy had been instructed to call her at the time, was an older, Caucasian woman with crooked, yellowed teeth and a badly bent back. She was a woman of very few words, silently going about her work cleaning the orphanage and rarely interacting with anyone. And Amy had loved her to bits.

She wasn't sure when she had started, but she remembered observing her. Suffering from her nightmares, Amy was often the last to bed and the first to awaken, creeping through the halls like a wandering ghost. The only person that knew about her ventures was Ms. Lewis, and she never told anyone. She barely even seemed to notice as Amy followed her around, watching as she went about her work, until she was forced to return to her bedroom so no one was the wiser that she had not slept for more than a few hours.

Amy often helped her without being asked. She would change the water Ms. Lewis used to wash the floors when it got brown and murky, and was there with a mop and bucket every morning at 4:30 am sharp. Ms. Lewis never thanked her, and never cracked a smile, but after seeing pity and sorrow in everyone's face, Amy welcomed the absence of having to uphold any emotional interaction.

They followed this routine until Amy was rejected by a family for the first time. The crushing realization that she was not able to change their decision and being left on her own again was just as painful as losing her parents. She did not leave her room that day, and after several attempts to get her to participate in the school day, the various guidance counsellors and teachers left her alone.

That night, as she lay wide awake but unwilling to move, Amy saw something slipped under the room door. Intrigued, she picked it up and retreated to the safety of her bunk. It was a thin and well-worn book, as if read many, many times. The words were not in English, but in a language that had the same letters, with funny dashes and squiggles attached to some of them. The pictures were full of vivid colors and fantastic creatures, some terrifying and malicious while other soft and friendly. She couldn't read the story, so she made up her own, falling asleep contended and warm, the hurt of the day long forgotten.

The next day, Amy had returned to normal. She gave Ms. Lewis a small smile as she passed her in the hall, knowing that the small gesture would convey so much more than any words could.

Over her years at the orphanage Amy learned that the book was in French, and that Ms. Lewis' mother had been French. Ms. Lewis brought her more books, all of them in French. Amy would study the pictures and words in wonder, and in the dead of night she would hide the books under the loose floor boards by her bed. They were her secret, and they were the most precious thing she had.

When Amy grew older, Ms. Lewis brought her books without pictures that were French on one side of the page and had an English translation on the other. And so, Amy learnt French.

The night before she was going to leave the orphanage, Ms. Lewis finished her work and sat down beside Amy on the bench she occupied. They sat there for a long time, not saying anything, but exchanging goodbyes none the less. Amy still remembered in crystal clear detail the window they faced. It was shiny and perfectly transparent thanks to Ms. Lewis' hard work. Beyond it stood a scraggly tree, bare in the winter's chill. Amy had never felt more at peace.

Ms. Lewis stood slowly and Amy followed, facing the shorter woman and giving her the same smile as she had that day so long ago. No words were exchanged, but centuries worth of feelings passed in that tiny sign of joy.

At 4:30 am sharp, Amy's train to Gotham arrived in the station, and Ms. Lewis went to get the bucket and mop herself.

It had been very bittersweet, with Amy both captivated by the prospect of her future and distressed by the parting from her voiceless friend. Now, she hoped that Ms. Lewis was doing well, and vowed that if she did make it out of this alive, she would go and visit her dearest companion.

Waking up in the unfamiliar bedroom made Amy disoriented before everything from the previous day flooded her sleepy mind. Amy collapsed back into the pillows and glanced at the curtains. Sunlight was just beginning to peek through them, so it must have been fairly early in the morning. Deciding there was no reason to waste time Amy got out of bed and went about getting ready for the day. As she brushed her teeth she heard the faint sounds of someone walking around upstairs, seemingly moving furniture and opening and closing drawers. She wondered what Bane was up to.

Following her routine of make-up and hair, Amy dressed in a knee-length skirt and a white blouse. She made her bed, neatly tucking and straightening, and opened her curtains. Finished with her morning activities, she left her room and headed for the living room in hopes of finding Bane. She wasn't sure what he would and wouldn't allow her to do, and was eager to have some ground rules figured out.

Bane was seated on the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the window. Amy stopped upon entering the room and waited for him to acknowledge her presence. She felt like a slave-girl waiting for her master's orders. Swallowing down her disgust, she took a deep breath.

Languidly Bane unfolded himself from where he sat like a wild beast, all that power restrained, yet unleashed at any second. He casually strolled towards her holding onto the belt loops of his pants.

"I trust you slept well," he drawled. She had in fact slept quite well once her nightmares had passed. She had the fuzziest memory of someone soothing her, but she wrote it off as part of a dream. It was just her and Bane in the apartment, and unless Barsad had snuck in, there was no one who could have comforted her.

"I slept fine, thank-you. And you?" she asked. Bane's mask was a mystery, and one of the many questions she had about it was if he slept with it on. That is, if he slept at all.

"You will prepare your own meal." He completely disregarded her polite question and moved towards the stairs. "The kitchen is at your disposal. You have half an hour."

Amy's mood soured immediately, and that couldn't have been good this early in the morning. He was religiously keeping up his slave and master attitude. Now he even timed her meals.

Scowling, she padded into the kitchen and took inventory of the food. Both the fridge and pantry were filled to the point of overflowing. Despite the atrocious state of so many Gothamites, Bane obviously lived in luxury. This seemed very unlike the very straightforward and simplistic mercenary.

Pulling eggs and bacon out of the fridge, Amy started making her breakfast. She found frying pans in a drawer by the oven and a whole pantry full of all kinds of tea. All of them looked freshly bought, some of them unopened. She wouldn't have pegged Bane as a tea drinker, but the man was an enigma wrapped in enigmas, so she was never done being surprised.

She was placing her dirty dishes in the dish washer – which was completely empty, making Amy wonder if Bane ever ate – when Bane returned to his place on the couch. Instead of sitting down across from him, Amy went to the window and looked out. This high up, Gotham was just as full of shiny metal and gleaming glass as it had been before Bane's arrival. It was funny how much was hidden beneath the surface.

"I have a business proposal for you, Ms. Bloor," Bane began. Amy didn't reply, continuing to gaze at the city. "I am willing to let you leave Gotham."

At this Amy did turn around with an incredulous expression, which quickly changed to one of suspicion. It was too good an offer to come without strings attached.

"What would I have to do in return?"

"Inspire hope in the hearts of Gothamites," Bane said simply. Amy had a very bad feeling about this. "You see, Ms. Bloor, you are someone who the citizens of Gotham look up to, someone they trust. As of late, many of them have been gathering in small rebellions, becoming violent and savage. They do so not because they wish to achieve something, but because they have nothing else to do with themselves. They require a leader to tell them what to do, a leader that they have known and admired before my arrival. A leader, like you, who will assure them that they do not need to fight."

It was an understatement to say that Amy was surprised. "If they will listen to me as you say they will, what stops me from leading them to overthrow you?" It seemed like just the thing anyone granted that kind of power would do.

"You are not so foolish, Ms. Bloor. You know that if you were to somehow defeat me, the bomb would go off. You do not wish to die, and you do not wish to be responsible for the deaths of thousands. Therefore, you will obey me and will be rewarded for your obedience by your freedom from Gotham."

"You said that the bomb might not go off at all, so why should I work so hard to escape a city that may not even be doomed?" she questioned. There was something in Bane's eyes that told her there was something very dark and very dangerous that he was not telling her.

"You think you want to know everything Ms. Bloor, but you tread dangerous waters. There are some things best left unsaid." He shifted as if to leave.

"I want to know what you're not telling me. I don't care how bad it is. It's something concerning this deal you're trying to strike with me and I know better than to join something without knowing all the details." Her voice had a strained, anxious note to it that she couldn't stop. It felt like she was at the edge of a black pit, the slightest push sending her tumbling to her death.

Bane looked at her for a long time, his eyes boring into hers. He was entirely motionless. Amy's body was rigid and tense like the strings on a violin.

"The bombwill go off," he said. Amy didn't catch on right away.

"You can't guarantee that. We've been–" He cut her off with a quick hand gesture.

"The bomb can be triggered…_early._ Its detonation is inescapable. On February twelfth, it will go off, triggered or not." Amy was speechless. The drowning, choking feeling was back and it took everything she had not to grab her throat as if she actually couldn't breathe. The bomb was going off. All of the promises of a revolution and freedom were lies. All of Gotham was living out one big joke. Except no one would be laughing when they heard the punch line.

"So you wanted me to lead people, tell them that it was going to be okay, while knowing that they were going to _die_?" Her voice broke on the last word. "_What kind of monster does that!?"_

Bane's eyes were colder and darker than ever before. He stalked over to her, looming over her. Roughly he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her head back. Amy's hands curled into fists at her sides, her skin stretching white over her knuckles.

Bane leaned over her, his mouthpiece inches from her lips. "You think yourself superior to me, a prized and special child who survived the dark and emerged to the light. But you are weak. You are foolish. You have not seen the horrors of this world as I have, have not lived them. And yet, you dare make judgement."

She could feel his breath on her lips. It smelled of mint and something sweeter, almost like burnt sugar. Overcome with a sudden flash of anger, Amy raised her fist and punched him as hard as she could. Or at least tried to. Before she could make contact, Bane grabbed wrist and bent her arm behind her back at a painful angle. He yanked her to him, his massive frame and un-budging strength squeezing the air from her lungs.

"I have been very generous and patient with you Ms. Bloor, but even I will not tolerate you forever," he rumbled. Amy struggled against him in vain. She gasped when pain shot through her shoulder, making her seize her movements.

"Let me go!" she hissed at him. He didn't reply and maintained his grip on her, probably gleeful at having her at his mercy. Amy was beginning to panic. The only thing that broke through the mind numbing fog was the front door opening, and someone walking in. A female someone with black hair and an olive complexion. Miranda Tate.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Zomg! Miranda Tate! I'm so sorry for the long wait! Updates will return to their usual frequency from now on. This week I was very busy with school and a Social Distortion concert! For anyone who doesn't know who they are I strongly suggest looking them up, especially their song "Machine Gun Blues". Super-duper awesome band!

Thank-you once again for all the reviews! I'd like to specifically thank all of those of you that review but do not have an account. I would reccomend getting one because its a great way for me to get in touch with you, and just generally join the amazing FF community :).

-lavenderbreeze30


	10. Desperate Times and Ridiculous Measures

**Diclaimer: I do not own anything.**

Bane didn't so much as twitch as Miranda Tate leisurely strolled in. Amy on the other hand began struggling anew. "Help! Run for help! Please!" she yelled.

Miranda looked over at her with a blank expression. "Bane, when you are finished with this, I wish to speak with you upstairs."

Amy was dumbstruck, momentarily forgetting to fight Bane. When Miranda disappeared up the stairs, Bane brought Amy's attention back to himself with a vicious shake.

"You will stay in your bedroom until I come to retrieve you," he ordered. Amy stared him in the eyes, refusing to back down. Her shoulder was dully thrumming now. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what relationship Miranda Tate could have with Bane. She was a Gotham elite and she should have feared and hated him, not paid him casual visits.

Although it seemed impossible, Bane somehow seemed to pull her closer. He wasn't wearing his vest today and she could feel every rigid angle of his body. Something was burning in his eyes, far away and small like an ember, but definitely there. His breathing was laboured and the hand on her arm burned. His thumb moved, ever so slowly, over the racing pulse in her wrist. Back and forth like the swish of a cat's tail. They could have stood there for hours, until finally Bane detached himself from her and briskly took the stairs two at a time.

Amy sunk to her knees. All she could hear was the rushing of her own blood, rapid and loud. What was most disturbing was that this wasn't fear. No, it was something incredibly hot and powerful that made her do reckless things with people she normally wouldn't have thought of twice. She'd never experienced anything like it before, and if she was being honest, there was something incredibly liberating about not thinking and just _doing_.

Physically shaking herself to purge off the dangerous set of mind, she climbed to her feet with the aid of the couch arm and hurried to her room. She would probably have a heart attack if Bane decided to invade her personal space again.

Once safely hidden behind her door, Amy searched for inspiration. She could not accept Bane's offer. Freedom or not, she knew that the guilt would not let her alone. She couldn't risk finding out that this was his only plan for her. If he considered her useless, there was a very high chance that he would decide to kill her. She knew too much about him for him to allow her to continue running around Gotham.

There were two windows in her room. This height eliminated the possibility of jumping out, but it could potentially provide access to the roof. Both of the windows were fixed and did not open. If she was really desperate, she could break a window and attempt to climb out. However, not only did she have no idea if it was even possible to climb to the roof from here but she had no way of knowing how to escape if she got there. So the windows were out. The front door was also out as it only led to a whole bunch of guards she had no hope of getting past. Her only chance was tricking Bane into taking her outside for one reason or another. That plan made her nervous. She couldn't plan that out step by step. There were too many variables. She'd have to think on her feet and hope for the best.

"I hope you are contemplating your decision, Miss Bloor." Amy's heart almost leapt out of her chest. She whirled around, finding Bane standing in her doorway. She had not heard the door open or his approaching footsteps. It was very annoying how he could be silent when he wanted. She would have very much liked if he was less adept at sneaking around. She didn't answer and turned back to the window. With Bane, trying to talk him into seeing things differently was as effective as throwing yourself at a wall. You might eventually make the slightest indent but you'd be so battered and bruised by then that it would be impossible to notice.

Behind her, Amy heard Bane walk in and sit on her bed. It bothered her, but she wouldn't let him know. Even though she realized that he was wrinkling the duvet she so painstakingly straightened this morning.

Amy felt claustrophobic. Not only physically with Bane's massive frame some mere feet behind her, but suffocated by her own mind as well. She was usually a very innovative thinker, being able to solve problems creatively and from a completely new perspective. That was what had made her bakery business so successful. But now her mind ran in loops, seeing only two choices, neither of which left her a healthy, rational human being in the end.

Taking any emotional or moral wellbeing out of the picture, she could potentially go along with Bane's request and leave Gotham all in one piece. What he asked was very doable…if the executer didn't have a soul. Or a beating heart. On top of that if he let her leave early enough, she could help the city from the outside. Bane would have to give her a lot of information for this to work smoothly, information that she could give the forces on the outside. They would definitely be able to come up with a plan.

Or she could refuse to do his bidding. Defying Bane was undoubtedly going to be painful. He would probably kill her, or at least horribly mutilate her to make an example. Either way, there was no way she would see the end, whether Gotham was freed or not.

What Amy needed was time, but with Bane all but breathing down her neck, she knew she didn't have that luxury. So she plotted a plan and turned to Bane. Steeling herself for the storm to come, she told him her decision.

* * *

"You agreed to do what!?" Cassidy was clearly less than impressed. Amy was at the bridal salon now, using her few precious few hours of freedom to figure out just what she had gotten herself into. The support she had been hoping for was not as obvious as she had expected.

Squaring her shoulders, Amy had given Bane her agreement. He had approached her slowly like a cat stalking its prey. She kept a straight face and prayed that he couldn't smell fear. Or sense when someone was lying. Was her eye twitching?

She had tensed her entire body to keep herself from shaking. Bane stood over her for an eternity, not speaking or moving, just staring. It felt like he could read her thoughts. But he didn't so much as raise a finger to her and had simply informed her that she was free to leave the apartment but was to be back before sunset.

She was waiting for the elevator when Miranda Tate had pranced out of the apartment not even sparing her a glance. What followed had to be the world's most awkward elevator ride ever. At least for Amy. Miranda didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

There was only one person Amy would trust with her ugliest secrets, so temporarily setting aside plans of escape, she headed to the bridal salon.

"You're not letting me finish!" Amy whisper yelled. The last thing she needed was someone over hearing her and sending her whole scheme crashing. "I'm not actually going to do it! That's insane!"

"Then what are you going to do?" Thankfully Cassidy lowered her voice as well. Her face still remained a vicious, blotchy red though.

"I don't know! That's why I'm here!" Amy had put on a smile for Lauren who was thrilled to have her back. After donning her hanker chief, she had limped around helping brides until she had a clear opening to ambush Cassidy. Yanking her into the nearest broom closet, Amy told her friend everything without holding back, curse words included. Throughout the conversation Cassidy`s face had turned varying shades from light rose to full out tomato red. Amy was starting to worry for her friend`s health.

"You know what? That's it! You're going into hiding until this whole thing blows over," Cassidy hissed. "And it will blow over!"

"Don't you listen!? I told you, he said that the bomb is a time bomb! There's no way that it's not going off!" Amy understood why Cassidy refused to believe Bane's words. It wasn't that she didn't think he was capable of something like this but rather that she didn't want to face the fact that unless some miracle took place, everyone in Gotham would die. Realizations like that did not inspire hope or the will to fight.

"Forget the bomb, what about this Miranda Tate lady? Why was she there?" Cassidy asked.

"I don't know. I didn't want to ask her in case she ran back and got Bane or something. I was more focused on getting the hell out of there." Amy did in fact question why she hadn't confronted Miranda about her presence there, although she doubted that if the woman was working with Bane that that would yield many answers. She did however note that Miranda did not exit through the front doors of the building, but rather turned into a side hallway and disappeared to what Amy assumed was a back door. Obviously only a select few knew about her association with Bane, and at least for the time being she wanted to keep it that way. Bane must have had some kind of hidden blackmail that he could use in case Amy decided to spill the beans. Amy didn't like being in the dark at all.

"You're setting yourself up for failure when you know next to nothing!" Amy had been thinking exactly the same thing. Playing Bane's game was like wandering through a minefield. Each step could reveal a new rule that could result in some pretty gruesome results.

"Look, I have to be back in like half an hour. I don't know how soon he expects me to start doing whatever it is he has planned, so I need a fail proof stall tactic," Amy said. Cassidy rubbed a hand over her mouth, deep in thought. Neither of them were evil masterminds, and anything they came up with, however seemingly sound, had a good chance of not standing up against Bane.

"I've got it," Cassidy burst out suddenly. "Let's just hope your acting skills are up to it."

* * *

Amy's joints ached. Her head felt like it was ready to explode. She couldn't breathe through her nose and her throat felt raw, making even swallowing painful. She was incredibly weak, barely having the energy to keep her eyes open.

Or at least she hoped that's what she looked like.

Cassidy brilliant plan had been incredibly simple: play sick. Any kid that had ever attended school must've tried it at least once since the common cold was hardly an Oscar talent requiring performance. Even if Bane was a lot more likely to interrogate Amy than any parent, if she tricked him successfully it would buy her time. After all, he couldn't present Gotham's newest hope as a wheezing, feverish wreck.

So Amy lay in wait, or rather in her bed, for Bane to come storming into her room when she failed to get up at 7 AM as he had instructed her the night before. The bedside clock showed Amy that she only had 4 minutes of waiting left.

After leaving the salon, Amy had thrown off her jacket and sweater and had taken the longest way possible back to the apartment. She had stuck to alleys and side streets to avoid being seen, and was thoroughly frozen when she had finally returned to the building. She had also forced herself to stay up to the wee hours of the morning. The results weren't half bad: a bad case of bed head, a runny nose, bloodshot eyes and chapped lips. Requiring a more convincing appearance, Amy slathered her face with blush and Vaseline and spritzed some water to imitate sweat.

She looked genuinely sick, but the obvious lack of a fever would be a problem. Amy really hoped that Bane didn't happen to have a thermometer handy.

At exactly 7:01, her door opened, and Bane walked in. He searched her room for a minute before his eyes landed on her, still in her pyjamas and still in bed. His eyes widened slightly as if he couldn't quite believe that someone would dare to defy him so boldly.

"Are you incapable of reading a clock, Ms. Bloor?" he asked. Amy groaned and raised an arm to turn the clock towards herself, her movements appearing to cause her great difficulty. She sniffled unnecessarily loudly and feigned a surprised gasp.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" she croaked quietly. Bane had approached her bed and stood breathing hard over her. As Amy started to slowly peel the covers off of herself he roughly grabbed her shoulder and stared hard at her face. Amy maintained eye contact, her heart racing. Now was the moment that would make or break her.

When Bane failed to act for several seconds, Amy decided to push him in the right direction. "I think I'm sick."

He didn't reply but released her and left the room with swift strides. Hesitantly Amy lay back down. Hopefully he hadn't gone to fetch a nasty weapon to murder her with.

Minutes later Amy wished he had killed her instead.

Bane returned with an innocent looking cup and placed it into her hands. The liquid inside was a brownish green and smelled like an herbal tea.

"Drink," Bane said. Seeing no other choice, Amy took a sip. And immediately spat it out all over herself.

The drink was bitter, salty and spicy all at once. It tasted like someone had taken every spice possible and had mixed it all together with milk and orange juice. Amy was certain that Bane was trying to poison her.

"What the hell is that!?" Amy exclaimed.

Apparently exasperated by her actions, Bane wrapped his own much larger hands around her own and pushed the cup back to her lips. Having no choice, Amy opened her mouth and choked the rancid liquid down one horrible gulp at a time. When it was finished Amy's throat felt like it was on fire and her eyes watered. She doubted that the taste would leave her mouth for days to come.

Bane's hands had not left her own.

"The medicine should start working within an hour. At eight thirty I expect you to be ready to leave. No excuses." How the plan could have crashed and burned so spectacularly quickly Amy had no idea, but it had and now she was out of time.

Finally releasing her hands, he extracted the mug from her grasp and left her alone to wallow in her misery for the next hour and a half.

* * *

**Author's note: **I AM SO SORRY! I realize that this update took nearly a month. Is it disappointingly short? Yes, and I cannot apologize enough for this! I am currently going through insane writer's block as well as a very busy school schedule. To add to this horrible brew I recently saw Skyfall and it has made my inspiration stray somewhat. However, there's a good side! For all of you Raoul Silva lovers out there I am planning a story centering around him and an OC. Will this make updates take super long? Probably. Will I do my best to be a good author and update more frequently than once a month? I certainly hope so.

Thank-you once again to all of you for your support! I hope that I did not disappoint and can win back your approval soon! :)


	11. Gifts

**Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable DC characters.**

* * *

Bane had brought her to the Court House again. She was really starting to resent this place. It was more crowded than usual today. A woman with a filthy face dressed in rags was perched at the bottom of Crane's mountain. She cackled seemingly at random, flashing the few teeth she had sparsely set in her head. Occasionally she would grab a book at random, tear its pages out and take to laughing hysterically again. There were others similar to her scattered around the room. Some were muttering to themselves in corners while others were more violent and jumped at people, yelling in their face or tearing at their clothes. One thing they had in common though is that they seemed to gravitate to Crane, wandering the room but always ending up at the base of his throne.

"He's done something to control them," she said to Bane. He was far from her friend, but while Bane was unpredictable, she had heard what Crane's toxin had done to the Narrows and she didn't care to see it in person. If he managed to overthrow Bane, death would be the least of her worries.

Bane made no sign that he heard her, but she knew that he did. The next time she visited the Court House, there were no crazies and Crane looked terribly sullen. Perhaps Bane trusted her more than she had originally thought.

"May I be so bold as to ask why we're here? Am I supposed to do something?" They had simply stood around for a good hour now. Her ankle was still sore and she did her best to keep her weight off it.

Bane glanced at her, his eyes travelling to her feet, but not saying a word. Those sentenced to death were no longer shot right on the spot but instead gathered and taken outside. Perhaps those cleaning up the mess had been killed too.

They remained at the Court House for another two hours – during which time Amy had been pounced twice by the insane man who lurked nearby - before Bane shed off his statue impression and nodded to Barsad, who stood across the room.

"Come," he said before taking off at a brisk pace towards the doors. Trailing behind Amy only hoped that she would get to sit down soon.

A black car that looked faintly like it belonged to the army was waiting for them outside. Bane opened the back door and motioned her in while he went over to one of his men. Glad for the chance to be off her feet she slipped in. Amy was surprised to see that the backseat was separated from the front by a black barrier, like that in a limo. She wondered on which side of it the secrets were being kept.

A few minutes later Bane got in beside her, shortly followed by Barsad getting in the opposite door. As soon as he shut his door she felt the vehicle take off. The windows were tinted and both men were large enough to block a majority of it so Amy was stuck staring straight ahead at the barrier. She didn't dare question Bane now, in front of his follower, because she knew that he would have to punish her to demonstrate his control. Her curiosity would have to wait until later.

They travelled for no more than fifteen minutes, when the car stopped and Bane made to get out. "You are going to the apartment. If you choose to leave, Barsad will go with you. You must return by sun down." With that he was out the door and heading to an unknown destination.

When the car started driving again she scooted away from Barsad and the oddly euphoric smile he was giving her. It was true what they said about killing them with kindness.

Once they had gotten to the apartment – Barsad ghosting behind her like a shadow the entire time – Amy gathered up the kitten before heading straight to her room and shutting the door in Barsad's face.

"I'm changing," she called through it hoping that he could respect that.

"You have five minutes before I am coming in, sugar," he called back. His accent made the ending of the endearment sound like a _grrr_, which made her skin goose bump.

Holding the kitten close, Amy sighed and released her hair from its various pins and ties.

* * *

Bane, Barsad and her continued in a similar pattern for several weeks. She stayed living in the apartment, falling into a sort of rhythm. The visits to the Court House were a little longer each time, until she was spending entire days there. She slowly started recognizing familiar faces, people who were there nearly as often as she was, apparently very enthusiastic about participating in the reconstruction of Gotham by its people. Knowing the end that they were going to meet when the bomb went off made Amy want to retch.

Over the weeks her injuries had healed and Hope had grown from a soft, fluffy kitten into an equally soft but newly sassy cat. He even went so far as to swipe at Bane with a furry paw when the latter ignored his pleas for a petting. To her surprise, Bane indulged the cat. It almost felt like being an outsider, watching their easy, amicable relationship.

When she asked him, Bane allowed Amy an hour to go free for lunch, of course accompanied by the ever mirthful Barsad. She often spent this time, and any other free time she had, at the bridal salon. The first time Barsad came there with her he had searched every nook and cranny, sending several women running out, before retreating to just inside the front door. Several days later Amy went to find a dress in a back room and discovered that the back door had been not only barricaded but also bent out of shape so that there was no way it was going to open. No wonder Barsad had seemed so content to guard only the front entrance.

When she didn't venture to the bridal salon because of weather or general exhaustion, she ate a lunch provided by one of Bane's men at the Court House. She made polite conversation with the people there, and found that Bane had been right. The people respected her and trusted her and were always eager to hear what she had to say, what plans she could provide them with. But all she could offer them were empty words of sympathy and encouragement to stay calm. Nevertheless, they quieted the scared Gothamites and it was only a short time before the rebellions stopped. That made Amy feel all the worse.

In trusting her, they trusted Bane too, and Amy wanted nothing more than to scream at them that they were very, very wrong in doing so. But she couldn't, because she had no help to give them to survive a fight against Bane. Yet even as she grew more desperate, she harbored no new resentment for Bane. As she grew to know him more, it was clear that while Bane was the mastermind who planned this whole thing, someone else was the motivation.

It was late evening, the end of December, when Amy found herself volunteering to stay behind and clean up the bridal salon. Bane had allowed her to leave the Court House early that day and after several days of snow storms, Amy was glad to be back. She didn't keep close track of the days but she knew that it was somewhere between Christmas and New Year's. She had been allowed regular visits to her own apartment and had scavenged around on her last visit for presents for Cassidy and Lauren. She had found an old book between the pages of which she had hidden several flowers, dried and flattened. She had given one to each woman, and had received a rarely seen chocolate bar and beautiful, thin, silk headband in return. As far as the holidays went, this was probably the saddest ones Amy had ever experienced, but they were still warming in their simplicity.

Once she was finished tidying the large space, Amy wandered aimlessly through the racks, pulling out dresses and admiring them with a purely girly enjoyment. She came upon one dress that made her breath catch, a beautiful A-line gown of white lace with a neat silk belt, and in a sudden whirl of fancy she decided to try it on. It fit her like a glove, and when she added the head band, she sparkled like a true bride. She stood on one of the podiums looking at herself in the mirror when she saw a dark shape of a man behind her. She was about to call out to Barsad that she'd be ready to go in a second when she realised that it was Bane.

He stood far enough that she couldn't quite make out his face in the reflection but he was clearly watching her. She doubted he had anything but scorn for her antics. He approached her slowly, and she saw that look of vulnerable, confusion on his face. Despite her better judgement she found herself stepping of the podium and meeting him half way. They stood like that in a comfortable silence, her shining pure and innocent in white, him dusty and brutal in black. A strange pair they made.

"You have lingered here long," he commented, his voice soft, and she knew that he could feel the fragility of the moment, the opening of doors, as she could.

"I had to clean up," she answered. There was a long pause, neither breaking the silence.

"You wish to get married, little angel?" She hadn't thought about it really, had just been trying on a pretty dress.

"It would be nice, to have something like that," she replied honestly. She had definitely imagined herself getting married one day, perhaps even having children. He walked closer to the mirrors in front of the podium. She followed close behind and stood just to the left of him.

"What would he be like, this man you would marry?" he questioned. His voice was low and almost sad, his eyes unreadable.

"He'd be like you," Amy said almost immediately, realising with a jolt that the words were true. Bane turned to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "You have a determination and loyalty I admire. Perhaps in another life, you would have made a woman very happy."

He continued to gaze at her, his eyes unwavering. She stared right back.

He reached into his pocket and produced a slender piece of material, most likely leather, thinned into a string. On it hung a tiny, wooden figurine, no bigger than half her pinky.

He moved to stand behind her and carefully, as if frightened that she might bolt, lowered it around her head until it rested just below her collar bone, the leather cord warm against her skin. Amy gently touched the figurine. It was somewhat crude, and obviously hand carved. It had tiny wings and was holding an animal of some kind, a cat perhaps.

"It's beautiful," she whispered. He did not reply. Instead, he remained where he was, his breath warm on the back of her neck. It was a confusing and ethereal moment broken only by the realization that it was time to leave and return to playing their assigned roles once again.

* * *

**Author`s Note: **I cannot even begin to apologize for this ridiculously long absence. I can make zero promises about updates. This chapter is a little short, but it`s more of a fast forward sort of thing because I really want to finish this story because I know how much it sucks to have a story left incomplete. Reviews are always, always wanted!


	12. Pieces

**Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable DC characters.**

* * *

Bane was injured again.

Amy had been returned to the apartment by Barsad only an hour or so before and was in the process of reading on the living room couch when Bane had stumbled in, his shirt soaked with blood. He had collapsed heavily onto the couch opposite.

Abandoning her book, Amy hurried to the kitchen, gathering the medical supplies as she had last time. When she returned, Bane was gasping in pain and scrabbling at his mask. He looked wild, none of the composure he always held present. Amy approached him slowly, setting the supplies on the coffee table.

"Bane," she said, but too quietly, he didn't hear her. "Bane," she tried again.

The second time his name was called he stopped his fruitless wrestle with the mask and turned his head towards her, his eyes half closed in agony.

"Tell me what to do." She got even closer to him, within grabbing range. His throat worked several times, but he didn't say anything she could comprehend.

"The tubes," he finally choked out. Not wasting a minute, Amy knelt beside him on the couch and carefully turned his head so she could see the entire front of the mask. Three tubes had come undone on the right side of the mouth piece, two on the bottom and one on the top. They hung awkwardly, twitching and swaying slightly, emitting some kind of foggy gas that smelled like burnt sugar. She pushed each one back into its place. As they connected, they made a clicking sound, as if some sort of passage had been restored.

The entire time that she was fixing his mask, Bane watched, his eyes glazed over as if in fever. But when the mask was back in its original state his eyes closed and he inhaled deeply. While he recovered, Amy reached for his shirt, pulling it up and noting that he wasn't wearing his bullet proof vest. There was a lot of blood, most of it still wet. There was a wound on the left side of his stomach, just below his rib cage. It had been stitched, messily and obviously by someone in a rush, but it had probably been the cause of all the bleeding. There were other cuts, and strange groove on his right side, which Amy assumed was from a bullet that had just grazed him.

She began the long process of cleaning off all the blood. His shirt was wet and stayed when she pushed it up to his collar bone. When she was done with the blood, she applied bandages to the stitched up wound, deciding to not replace the stitches that were already there, and one or two that looked deep enough to need it, including the bullet graze on his side. Bane didn't move, and didn't speak, just sat there, with his head leaned back and his eyes closed.

She washed up after she was done, before returning to Bane. He had opened his eyes and had completely taken off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the table. He watched her as she returned to her spot beside him on the couch.

"How do you feel?" she asked. He leaned toward her slightly.

"Better." He voice sounded normal again and his eyes held his customary concentrated light. Amy found it didn't intimidate her as much anymore. He reached out a hand and gently grasped her chin. "Such a stupid little angel," he murmured. "You had a perfect opportunity to kill me, and instead you saved me."

Amy didn't reply. They both knew he was only trying to provoke her. She could never kill anyone, evil or not. And recently Amy had started having doubts about whether Bane was evil. _Stupid angel indeed_, Amy though bitterly.

"Such a gentle heart in such a weak little angel is quite dangerous," he continued. He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, to the corner of her mouth and back again. The pad of his thumb was calloused, and made something in Amy stir. The men she had been with in the past, few as they were, had always been charming and handsome, all of them with smooth, manicured hands. She found that she was intrigued with the difference.

But he was teasing her again, testing her self-control, so she reached up and took his hand before she lost. She didn't completely break their physical contact, not backing away from the challenge entirely, instead resting her hand atop his where she placed it on the couch between them. Her skin was so light and smooth. His was darker and littered with little scars, proof of the life he led. It was a fascinating sort of wickedness.

"The mask is for pain, isn't it?" She was a smart woman and could put two and two together. But she was walking a fine line, letting him know that she was catching on to his secrets. She didn't meet his eyes although she could feel him studying her face.

The hand under hers curled into a fist, but he didn't pull it away. That was answer enough.

"Last time you were injured," she said, her voice hesitant and quiet, "your mask hadn't been damaged, but you still felt pain." She let her words hang in the air between them, the question in them evident.

He stretched the hand that wasn't under hers towards her neck. For a second Amy was afraid that he would strangle her, right there and then. But instead he picked up the little angel he had given her that still rested at the hollow between her collar bones. He held it between his fingers, turning, examining, lost in thought a great distance away.

"It had been damaged," he replied, "but also fixed. By another." Amy felt a strange mix of curiosity and something that felt oddly like jealousy. She tamped down the latter immediately. She had begun to see herself as something like a nurse to Bane, but he didn't depend on her in any way, and it was only natural that he had others to help him deal with his wounds when she wasn't around. Still, she couldn't help wondering who had fixed it for him.

Gently she pulled back and away from him, retracting her hand. Being close to him made her clumsy and unfocused, clouding her mind with dangerous thoughts. She let the new distance between them clear the haze in her head.

Bane didn't stop her movement, letting the angel slip through his fingers. He left his hand in the air briefly, before leaning back and resting one huge hand on each of his thighs.

"What happened today?" Amy questioned. She thought that the rebellions were done with, that the people had calmed, but his state today said otherwise. But apparently Bane was done talking to her.

"Nothing of consequence," he said, rising and passing her on his way to the stairs. He had an air of determination about him, something she learned to associate with the long periods of time he spent upstairs working on God knows what. "You will not be required at the Court House tomorrow. Barsad will be available to escort you should you choose to leave the apartment."

Once he was gone Amy carefully grabbed his shirt and threw it in the laundry machine with a load of her own clothing. Bane never washed his clothes down here, and Amy figured that he had someone take care of it elsewhere.

Whilst wiping down the coffee table Amy felt herself starting to get drowsy. It was just past eleven at night now, and deciding that there was nothing that couldn't wait until tomorrow, Amy headed to her room.

After brushing her teeth, Amy looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing a short, black, silk nighty, the hem and neckline trimmed with white lace. She had thrown on a matching robe against the chill that always seemed to linger in the apartment. Her hair was hanging freely around her face, the ends in need of a trim. She took off the necklace that she was always wearing now, and held it by the cord so that it swayed softly in front of her face.

The angel was almost faceless, with only indents for eyes and a carefully shaped bump for a nose. In contrast, the wings were decorated with individual feathers, tiny little things clustering all over them. It was hard to imagine Bane's huge, rough hands being able to carve something so delicate, seeming to be breath away from being broken. But Amy had caught glimpses of that hidden gentleness in him, when he wasn't paying any attention to her. When she found him in the living room reading the old books written in a different language that he seemed so fond off, she watched him handle them and turn the pages with a softness that shouldn't have belonged to a man his size. Or the way he had treated her ankle when he checked it for injury. It terrified Amy to see these things. She couldn't write Bane off as the bad guy quite so easily anymore.

Not knowing how she felt about that, Amy put the necklace back on and crawled under the covers, hoping for her sleep to be dreamless.

* * *

Amy decided to spend at least part of the next day at the animal shelter. She had been visiting less and less frequently, but Mary (or was it May?) seemed to have no trouble tending the animals herself.

As Amy neared the shelter, Barsad walking just behind her, she saw some sort of confrontation taking place on the stairs out front. Mary was firmly planted in front of the doors, her arms crossed defiantly, facing a group of people, mostly men. She was arguing with them in what sounded like Spanish.

Barsad quickened his pace so that he was in front of her, and motioned that she stay behind him. Amy saw a look of relief pass across Mary's face when she caught sight of her. The crowd moved aside for her and Barsad, throwing fearful glances at the latter's weaponry.

"What's going on?" Amy asked Mary. The older woman was flushed red with anger and glowered at the group still standing on the stairs, muttering amongst themselves.

"They want to kick out animals and take building," Mary replied in heavily accented English. With a jolt Amy realized it was the first time she had heard her speak.

A man who was maybe a little older than Amy with olive skin and wrinkles he looked too young for ascended the stairs toward them, stopping when Barsad dutifully played his role of human shield again.

"We have nowhere to live. It is too cold to stay without heating, and this is the only place left," he told Amy. The people behind him nodded and murmured in agreement. "The pipes froze and burst where we stayed before. The animals will survive better than us in the streets."

Amy didn't know what to do. She couldn't send them away, even if maybe Bane provided the muscle to do so, because she couldn't bear the thought of people freezing in the cold thanks to her selfishness. But the animals would be no better off. The dogs would form packs, no doubt, and after picking off all the cats, rats and whatever else in the city, they would start attacking humans out of starvation. She couldn't let that happen.

Her only hope was moving the animals somewhere else. But where? She thought suddenly of the building she lived in with Bane. Surely there was an empty apartment there somewhere? But to bring the animals there she would have to get Bane's permission, and to do that she would have to at least see him.

"You'll get the building. Just give me a day," she said, hoping that that would be enough time for her. "Just one day."

The young man studied her, frowning but contemplating her offer. The pipes had burst but there was enough dry space that they could stay put for another night. And the woman in front him looked so worried that he couldn't help but want to soothe her. He had always been a sucker for the pretty ones.

Finally he took a step back and sighed.

"One day," he repeated before turning on his heel and guiding his group away from the building.

Amy wanted to feel relief that she had bought herself some time, but instead she felt only dread for the upcoming conversation with Bane. She could already feel the migraine forming behind her eyes.

* * *

Barsad had informed her that Bane wouldn't be around until late evening, so she had the rest of the day to kill.

Once she reassured Mary that she would take care of the animals, Amy decided to visit Cassidy and Lauren again.

The salon was full of life and excited chatter, interrupted by the occasional squeal of delight. Lauren directed Amy to help Cassidy sort dresses in the back.

Joining her friend, they swapped idle chatter and gossip. Amy told her of the morning's adventure and Cassidy talked about the kids at the orphanage. Whenever there was a pause in the talking, Cassidy's face would go dreamy and distant, with a faint smile on her lips.

"Alright, I know that look," Amy said when her friend drifted off again. "Who is he?"

Cassidy giggled and blushed.

"Remember that cop I told you about?" she said dreamily. "John Blake?" That made Amy pause and set aside the dress she'd been about to hang with the other mermaid gowns. Cassidy was smart, but when it came to dating she often had poor judgement. She was also as stubborn as a mule and didn't listen to advice well.

"I thought you were staying the hell away from him," Amy repeated the words her friend had used. "What changed?" Cassidy stopped folding the veil in her hands and looked up at Amy, seeing the apprehension in her face.

Cassidy had always been the adventurous one between them. Amy had issues with trusting people that she didn't notice. When Cassidy listened to her talk about her relationships, she couldn't help but feel that it was more a business arrangement rather than real human feelings. They were always polite and comfortable. There were no arguments and no passion, because as soon as the relationship hit a bump in road, they would shake hands and end it. Amy went on living in her mannered, quiet world, always composed, always rational. Cassidy pitied her friend, but could only hope that someone would shake her out of her castle one day.

"Well, we kept running into each other at the orphanage and we started talking, and one thing lead to another. You know how it goes. We live together actually." Cassidy smiled remembering the way John had blushed when he'd asked her to join him for dinner that first time. He'd taken her to his apartment and served a surprisingly delicious meal considering the limited supplies. The night that had followed had been one of the best in Cassidy's life. She'd moved in the next day, upon John's request, and now counted the seconds until she saw him again.

"Wow, sounds kind of…" Amy struggled for the right word, "serious."

"Well, we've been together for about a month now," Cassidy said her expression sheepish. Amy felt a little hurt that her friend hadn't shared any of this with her.

"How come you didn't tell me?" Amy tried for a teasing tone but sounded awkward instead. She pretended to fiddle with some of the dresses, shuffling them on the rack pointlessly.

"It's just that you're so…" Cassidy mumbled.

"I'm so what?" Amy asked.

"Frozen. Like you can't even feel things, like you're not human," Cassidy blurted, immediately regretting her words when she heard Amy's quiet gasp.

Before Amy could say anything, Barsad popped his head in the door.

"We need to go back now," he said, completely unaware of the tense atmosphere in the room.

Numbly Amy grabbed her jacket without meeting Cassidy's eyes and followed Barsad out. She left quickly, not bothering with saying goodbye to Lauren.

Once they were outside, Amy walked briskly, almost jogging. She didn't want to cry. Not with Barsad watching, not here in the middle of the street.

By the time they reached the building and got in the elevator Amy was biting her lip to stop it from trembling. Just a little longer, she told herself, and she could hide in her room, away from prying eyes.

As soon as the doors opened, Amy bolted from the elevator and made a beeline for the apartment door. To her despair, Bane was standing in the living room, looking out the window. He turned around when he heard her come in and kick off her shoes. Amy knew she was about to break, could already feel the tears gathering in her eyes. Rubbing her forehead, she hoped her hand his her eyes. She hung her jacket on the nearest chair and prayed she could flee before Bane asked any questions.

But she saw his feet approaching her and froze where she was, looking at the ground, her hand still shielding her eyes. When he was in front of her, he grasped her jaw and lifted her face to look him in the eye. Amy tried to resist but he was too strong. His pulled her hand away still holding her chin. Amy took in a shaky breath and blinked rapidly, looking anywhere but him.

"You are distressed," he stated. "Why?"

Amy swallowed and blinked, but the lump in her throat made her choke and the tears finally spilled over and down her face, flowing from her skin to his, pooling in his palm, before continuing their journey.

"It's..it's nothing," Amy whispered, her voice cracking. She tried to pull his hand from her face with both of hers but he wouldn't budge. Instead he brushed her hands away and swiped a tear from her cheek with a rough thumb. He held the drop of salty water on his digit in front of his face, almost as if he'd never seen tears before.

Amy expected more questions but couldn't compose herself. She made small, strangled sounds as she tried to quiet her sobbing. Bane finally released her face, which she lowered at once, only to move his hand the back of her neck, his hold firm but gentle under her hair. Amy covered her face with her hands no longer able to contain her sobs. Bane tugged her towards him gently, until Amy had to move forward and rest her forehead against the bare skin between the shoulder straps of his bulletproof vest. He held her there, not speaking, slowly rubbing his thumb in slow circles against her skin.

Amy didn't know how long she stood there, with his warmth and smell around her, but eventually her sobs turned to hiccups and her emotions settled back from the tornado they had caused inside her. The hurt still lingered in her chest, heavy but not as sharp as it had been.

This time when she pulled back, Bane let her. She chanced a glance at his face. He looked just as distant and stoic as always and for that Amy was thankful. Bane was solid and constant, unchanging. He may have been jagged and unwelcoming but she could anchor herself to this particular rock without fearing that he would break apart and let her drown.

"I have been informed that you were involved in a conflict today," he said suddenly. "I wish for you to explain what happened. But for now, go and clean up. I will wait for you here."

Amy bobbed her head in assent, not yet trusting her voice, and hurried to her room. She splashed cold water on her blotchy face in the bathroom and washed the smudged mascara from under her eyes. She changed into yoga pants and a yellow fleece pullover. She needed every comfort she could get with her current state. Once she had brushed her hair into a high ponytail, she rejoined Bane, who was sitting on the couch, in the living room.

He looked her over with a nod, his eyes lingering on the leather cord that was just barely peeking out from under her collar. Self-consciously she tugged on the bottom of her sweater and sat down across from him.

He didn't say anything waiting while Amy figured out how she was going to ask this of him.

"There's an animal shelter west of here," she began, "and it's the only one that's still running. All the animals from the other shelters are housed there now. But today there was a group of people who wanted to take the building for themselves because it's the only place they could find with indoor heating. They want to kick the animals out." Amy paused, playing with the end of her ponytail.

"They were angry because you refused to let them have it?" Bane asked when she remained silent.

"No, I told them they _could _have it, but that I needed a day to move the animals." She hesitated again, not having the courage to look him in the eyes. She felt like a silly little girl asking Bane something so ridiculous. _Such a gentle heart in such a weak little angel is quite dangerous. _She wondered if she was about to risk her health for a bunch of abandoned pets and strays.

"You require help moving these animals?" Bane questioned. She could tell that he was getting annoyed with having to pry her words from her.

"Yes and no." Taking a deep breath she steeled herself and looked at him. "I need somewhere to house them, now that the shelter isn't an option. I hoped that there was space here, in this building, where I could be close enough to take care of them."

Hope chose that moment to stroll down the stairs, looking sleepy. Amy looked away from the now silent Bane and watched the white cat as he approached, taking a moment to rub against the large man's legs before hopping up onto Amy's lap and rolling over onto his back. He purred contentedly when she stroked the fur on his tummy.

Bane was still staring at her, and when the silence stretched for several minutes, Amy gave up and met his eyes again. He looked faintly disappointed, his eyebrows furrowed as if he couldn't quite figure something out.

"I will not waste my time and space on something so trivial," he said at last, his tone dismissive. "If you wish to save these animals, then you are on your own, though I would not suggest that you waste your time on this foolish act of kindness." Amy's heart sank, but she knew better than to argue. She hated the same solidity and immobility that had brought her comfort just a little while before. "This is not what distressed you to the point of tears, however. You will tell me what happened." Angry and hopeless Amy wanted nothing less than to cooperate. So for once, she defied Bane's wishes.

"Nothing of consequence," she echoed. She reveled in the way his eyebrows rose in surprise as she stood, holding Hope to her chest, and walked off to her room confidently. Bane didn't stop her, and Amy missed the look of astonished pride in his eyes as he watched her retreating back.

* * *

_She heard the screech of the brakes, her mother's scream. The words of the story she had been telling froze in her throat. The world outside her window flipped once, twice, before a huge white bag exploded and blocked it entirely. Her head smacked into the seat behind her as the metal machine around her landed with a terrible bang. Everything was spinning, and there was blood on her face, she could feel it. She wanted mommy to make it stop, for daddy to protect her. But there was blood, so much blood. The lifeless eyes stared at her. Blood, blood, blood. She couldn`t stop screaming. Make the blood stop. Please. Please. Please._

Amy gasped awake, sweating and shivering at the same time. She pulled the sheets tighter around her, accidentally yanking them from under Hope. He woke with an angry mewl before curling up again. She brushed her fingers through his long fur, feeling him purr like a tiny motor at her gentle ministrations. Her heart stopped racing and she could breathe freely again. She almost never had nightmares anymore, but her overtaxed nervous system had brought it all back again. She tried to lie back again and sleep, but every time she closed her eyes she`d see the blood again.

Feeling restless and far too hot, she climbed out of bed and pulled on her robe. The green numbers on her beside clock told her that it was two in the morning. She made her way to the kitchen with the intent of making herself a cup of tea, but stopped in dead in her tracks when she saw Bane silhouetted by the city lights as he stood staring out the window. Something in the set of his shoulders told her that he was far away from Gotham, lost somewhere in the depths of his mind. She doubted that he had noticed her come in.

Feeling like she was interrupting something private, Amy cleared her throat. Bane whipped his head around, piercing her with his gaze in the dark. Amy shifted her bare feet.

"I couldn't sleep," she murmured. He nodded almost absentmindedly and turned back to the window.

Leaving him to his thoughts Amy went into the kitchen and turned on the lights. She had an electric kettle here which she filled with water and turned on. She opened the cupboard that held the tea and chose a green tea she hadn't tried before. When the water finished boiling, Amy poured it over her tea bag and let it sit until the liquid in her mug was a darkish yellow.

Throwing away the bag, she flicked off the kitchen light and went to stand beside Bane. Cradling the cup between her palms she felt more relaxed than she had in days. Parts of the city below winked and sparkled at them, while others were in darkness.

She saw Bane turn towards her. He grasped a strand of her loose hair and wrapped it around his finger, tugging on it gently. His eyes were sad and angry at the same time, glaring at her hair as if it was refusing to tell him the answers he wanted.

Amy recognized a part of herself, long forgotten and left behind, in his eyes, and it made her ache with a need to help him, questionable as it were. She carefully pulled her hair from his fingers. She pushed her mug against the palm of the same hand and curled his fingers around it.

"Wait here," she told him. Once she was sure he wouldn't drop her cup, she trotted off to her room. Taking what she wanted from the drawer in her bedside table, she returned to Bane. He stood in the exact same spot and exact same position as she had left him. Amy wondered if he would've stayed there all night.

She took her mug back, and replaced it with a thin and weathered book. It was the very one that Ms. Lewis had given her the first time she had been rejected by a family. Bane looked at it, brushed his thumb over the title.

The story written on the pages was a sad one, of a girl who sold matches on a cold Christmas Eve. To keep herself from freezing the girl lit a match, even though her father forbade it. When she did she saw a dinner table covered with food, something she'd never had, but just as she reached out to grab something to fill her empty stomach the match went out and she was in the cold again. As she lit more matches, more wonderful things appeared before her; a fireplace, a Christmas tree, a warm bed. When she lit her last match she saw her deceased mother, who beckoned her. This time, the match didn't go out and the little girl joined her mother in the skies.

"Now we're even," Amy whispered to him. The little book had helped her through her hardest time, and held a special place in her heart. Even though Bane didn't, couldn't know this, she told him without words, with her eyes, how grateful she was for the charm around her neck.

Bane continued to stand there in his stupor and Amy realized that she couldn't help him anymore. Casting one last glance at the sleepy city below, Amy started back to her room, slowly sipping her tea.

Bane called out her name just as she was about to disappear into the hallway. He flipped through the pages of the book before speaking.

"You may bring the animals here," he said softly, "but if this causes you to stray from your duties to me, I will have them thrown out."

Murmuring a thank-you, Amy returned to her room and curled up with Hope, both in her arms and in her heart.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Phew! Longest chapter yet! Almost 5,000 words! I experimented with changing the point of view in this chapter, so please tell me how I did! Was it confusing? Should I continue doing it or never do it again?

As always thank-you all for the reviews, follows and favourites!

Please continue to do all that! It really makes me happy! :)


	13. Innocent

**Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters or places are not mine.**

* * *

For once in what felt like a really long time Amy woke up without an alarm clock. Feeling more relaxed than she had in days, she stretched lazily before opening her eyes.

Only to see Barsad's face inches from hers.

Shrieking, Amy somehow managed to both throw her pillow at him and get so hopelessly tangled in the sheets that she fell to the floor from the opposite side of the bed wrapped like a burrito. Surfacing, Amy watched as Barsad walked around the foot of the bed, the pillow she had thrown at him held under his arm. He was grinning like a kid who had just gotten into the cookie jar and made no move to help her up.

"What in the _hell _was that?" she hissed at him. Barsad grinned even wider as she uselessly pulled at the cloth trapping her legs, letting out several expletives.

"It is time to rise sunshine!" he chirped merrily. "Your animal friends await you!"

Finally freed, Amy huffed at Barsad and his condescending tone. She pushed past him on her way to the bathroom, putting more force into her shoulder than necessary. The door shut on his chuckle.

Twenty minutes and a shower later, Amy looked like herself again. She found a note on her bedside table from Bane. It told her that she had the day for her "useless task" and that Bane did not wish to be disturbed as he had his own business to attend to. Deciding that his absence was for the best, Amy pulled on mint skinny jeans and a black sweater that she had just laundered.

In the kitchen, Barsad was making something, his gun swung carelessly across his back. Standing next to him she saw that it was a rather thick sandwich, piled with all sorts of cheeses and cold cuts. He was cutting it in half with great care. When he was done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Amy didn't miss the chance to swoop in.

Deftly snagging half of his masterpiece, Amy dashed out of grabbing distance while determinedly stuffing as much of her prize as possible into her mouth. Barsad caught her by the elbow within seconds, spinning her around. He looked absolutely flabbergasted and stared at her as she stuffed the rest into her mouth and chewed, his eyes darting between her now empty hands and bulging cheeks. He wore the same astonished expression as Amy sauntered past him to the fridge.

"You look like a chipmunk," he told her disdainfully as she pulled out the milk. Attempting to respond with something snarky, Amy choked and had to take a minute to avoid death by sandwich. Barsad grinned mockingly around a bite, clearly enjoying her failure at a comeback.

Finally recovering from her coughing fit, Amy went to grab her glass of milk, only to have it snatched by Barsad, his hand so quick that it was almost a blur. He downed the liquid in two gulps and smacked his lips, giving her another sneer.

"Thanks. Always so considerate Ms. Bloor," he chirped sweetly before patting her on the head and walking out the door.

Glowering at the space he had just occupied, Amy swore terrible vengeance.

* * *

Bane had given her five men, not including Barsad, and an entire day to move the fluffy inhabitants of the shelter. It was shaping out to be a good, productive day.

Amy did her best not to let confusing thoughts of Bane dampen her mood, but the occasional memory of his unguarded expression the night before slipped past her best defences.

Mary or May – Amy promised herself that she would get that figured out eventually – was delighted to see her, even with the pack of stony faced mercenaries following her.

The cats and smaller dogs were herded into crates. They filled six and three of the men grabbed one in each hand. To Amy's surprise, they handled them with great care. There were also four big dogs that Amy had no choice but to walk back to the apartment building. Luckily they were all cheerful and well behaved, waiting patiently as she put collars and leashes on each of them.

The remaining men, including Barsad, packed up all the food and supplies into boxes and carried it off. Following them, Amy exchanged quick goodbyes with a smiling May/Mary before stepping out.

The young man that Amy had spoken to the day before was just approaching the shelter, this time alone. He shielded his eyes from the morning sun as he looked over Amy's bizarre procession.

"I see you've found a place for the animals," he called. Amy stopped at the bottom of the steps, the dogs obediently sitting. The man wore an expression of incredulous delight as he came up beside her. "I must say I'm very impressed."

Amy smiled. She was just as surprised. "I'm just glad that everyone has a place to go," she replied kindly.

The day before she hadn't noted the man's appearance beyond his face, but now she took in the lean swimmer's body clad in faded jeans and a dark jacket. He was clearly fit, and the sparse wrinkles he had didn't take away from his good looks.

Bringing her eyes back to his face, she saw him grinning and realized that he had caught her looking. Blushing, she lowered her eyes bashfully, not before noting that his eyes were a lovely dark brown color.

"I'm Raoul, by the way." He stuck out his hand, still smiling. Moving the leashes to her wrist, Amy took it and felt his palm warm and rough against hers.

"Amy," she replied. He held her hand for a moment longer than was probably necessary and repeated her name, testing the way it sounded. Amy found herself not minding. It had been too long since she'd had this kind of easy, flirty interaction with someone. In fact, she didn't have much contact outside of strange conversations with Bane and barked orders from Barsad.

Apparently bored, the golden retriever on her right rose and sniffed Raoul's leg. Squatting, he rubbed behind the dog's ears and was rewarded with a lick right on his nose. Laughing, he tried to restrain the dog from demonstrating any more slobbery affection, but failed miserably, ending up on his back with the golden retriever licking at his face excitedly.

Amy found herself chuckling, the silliness of the moment irresistible. Finally succeeding in gently pushing away the dog, he dusted off his jeans and gave her a boyish grin, making Amy's stomach flutter.

Amy looked her best yet when she laughed, Raoul decided, and he couldn't be more pleased that it was because of him. She had looked worried and uncomfortable the day before, gloomy almost. Once they'd calmed from their laughing fit, she continued smirking at him, her eyes shining. God she was pretty.

Raoul opened his mouth as if to say something, but Amy heard Barsad whistle and call for her. She saw him half a block away, looking irked and motioning for her to follow.

"I should go," she said to Raoul, wishing that she didn't have to. Wishing that she could just stay, just have a normal, flirty conversation with a normal, cute stranger.

"And I should go talk to Mary," Raoul said, nodding towards the shelter. So it _was_ Mary. Amy internally celebrated the discovery. "But you should stop by sometime." He stuffed his hands into his jeans' pockets and climbed the stairs. "I'm willing to offer our finest mac and cheese," he teased.

"Throw in something sweet and I might just take you up on that." Halting with his hand on the door handle, he beamed again.

"Come tomorrow, around five, and I promise you won't regret it."

"What could make you so sure?" Amy inquired, her tone joking.

"Guess you'll just have to come and see for yourself!" With another mischievous smirk, Raoul disappeared inside.

Another whistle from Barsad sent Amy jogging to catch up with him, the dogs thrilled at the exercise after being cooped up for so long.

Even Barsad's unyielding glare as they walked did nothing to tarnish her bubbly mood.

* * *

Bane had selected the other apartment on their floor for the animals. It was another penthouse and Amy went about blocking off the stairs and making sure the balcony door locked properly.

It took the entire morning to set up litter boxes and food bowls and to feed and look over each of the smaller animals. She`d have to repeat the process every night, as well as walk all the dogs at least twice a day. It was a lot of work, but it was a job Amy was looking forward to.

Meanwhile, the four dogs that couldn't be put in crates lay around in the living room, occasionally scratching at the balcony door and whining at her. Kneeling by the most insistent dog, a huge Newfoundlander with a milky eye, she ruffled his fur.

"You want to go for walkies, don't you, big guy?" she cooed at him. Deciding that she could afford to leave for a half hour so that they would be less restless, Amy attached leashes to their collars again and headed out.

In the lobby, Barsad was instructing men in a rough language. He looked her over warily.

"You can't go out now. I'm busy," he said irritably, as if he couldn't believe what a nuisance she was being.

"They need to be walked," she said motioning towards her furry companions. The easily bored Golden Retriever was already tugging her towards the door. "You don't have to come. No one will attack me when I have four huge dogs with me."

Not waiting for an answer, she stepped away. Barsad called out a protest but his voice was cut off by the closing glass door. Looking back she saw him struggle to follow but another mercenary blocked his path, his demeanor urgent.

Amy breathed a sigh of relief. It was very refreshing to not have someone breathing down her neck all the time.

Once they were several blocks away, the streets became deserted and Amy let the dogs off leash. Walking along, she picked up a stick and tossed it as far as she could, sending the dogs chasing after it.

It was very comforting to be strolling along, almost as if she didn`t have a care in the world. The ticking bomb that would wipe Gotham off the surface of the planet felt almost like an alternate reality.

Passing a dark alleyway littered with garbage, Amy heard a soft sobbing. Coming closer, she saw a woman sitting on her bottom with her knees pulled up just a little ways from the mouth of the alley. Hearing Amy`s quiet advance, she looked up. Her face was streaked with mascara and her lips badly chapped.

"Please help me," she gasped out. "I can't get up."

Worried for the woman's health, Amy jogged over to her and hunched down beside her.

"Were you attacked? Did you—" Something suddenly smashed into the back of Amy's head, sending her face first to the ground. The pain in her skull was incredible and Amy scrambled backwards seeing stars. The woman who had been sobbing was now getting up to stand beside a fat man with a shaved head.

"Dumb bitch," the woman hissed. She was rubbing at the mascara on her cheeks with a handkerchief. Belatedly, Amy realized that there had been no tears in her eyes. "Eric'll have a grand time with you, sweet cheeks." Her hoarse, grinding laugh echoed in Amy's aching head. When she prodded the back of it, her fingers came away sticky with blood.

Crawling further back, Amy bumped into an overturned garbage bin. Through the haze and ringing that filled her head, Amy realized that the only way to get past it was to turn her back on the criminal pair. But judging from the wooden baseball bat in the man's hands, she wouldn't survive it. Terror creeped in then, settling in her stomach and radiating out to her lungs. Her breath came in quick gasps as the man drew nearer tossing the bat from one hand to the other. She saw several missing teeth as he leered at her.

"I don't-don't have any money," she croaked. The man threw back his head and guffawed, the woman joining him.

"What use is money?" His eyes traveled down her body as she struggled to get up. "I can do what I want to you. That's all the payment I need." He turned his head in the woman's direction. "Stand watch. I don't want any interference." The woman nodded and walked out of sight beyond the mouth of the alley.

Throwing aside his weapon, the man lunged at Amy.

Narrowly dodging him, she scrambled to her feet and tried to dash away. Behind her, she heard the sickening crunch as he flew face first into the garbage bin. Before she could take more than two steps, Amy went crashing to the ground again overwhelmed by dizziness. Before she could rise again, he caught her ankle and dragged her under him, straddling her waist, and making it hard to breathe. Amy beat at his chest uselessly, wriggling and trying to dislodge him. His nose was bleeding profusely and his eyes had a vicious, mad glean.

"You stupid cunt," he growled at her. He pulled a knife from his pocket and set it under her chin, forcing her head up. "Now you've gone and ruined my mood."

Tears pooled in Amy's eyes as she struggled to take in air. There would be no Bane to save her this time. She was on her own. And she was completely helpless. Her mind raced as she tried to think of something, _anything, _that could help her.

Just as she felt the knife break her skin, a snarling mass of black and brown fur slammed into the man sending him skidding backwards. The man screamed as the Rottweiler tore at him.

Amy had better luck getting to her feet this time. Running as fast as she could without falling, she stumbled out of the alley. The horrific yells of the man suddenly came to a stop with a wet gurle. Swallowing down her nausea, Amy looked around. The woman who had tricked her was nowhere in sight, probably having abandoned her partner once things turned sour.

Not pausing to think Amy sprinted, confused and disoriented. Vaguely she noticed the other dogs running with her, but she was scared and hurt and they only terrified her further.

Her legs seemed to be detached from her body, making her stumble and fall several times. Still she kept going until her lungs burned and her vision started to fade to black. Crumpling to the ground, she lay on her back and took in wheezy breaths hoping that she could recover before someone else decided to take advantage of her.

As she lay there, the dogs nudged at her and whined. She saw the Rottweiler trot up but was too weak to move away. He sniffed her hand and bumped it with his nose. Hesitantly, Amy reached out and stroked the top of his head. His muzzle was covered with blood and Amy choked back tears at the sight of it. It was too much, it shouldn't have, _couldn't have_, happened. People couldn't be so _evil_.

Clambering to her feet and sobbing Amy continued in the direction of the apartment building.

Soon it was within a block and Amy almost cried out at the sight of it. Half-limping, she burst into the lobby. Barsad spotted her immediately and tried to get to her side, but the Rottweiler drew back his lips and growled. With a reassuring touch to the animal's flank, she went to Barsad instead.

He was saying words she couldn't decipher, something urgent and angry.

Before she could appreciate that his expression was twin to the one he had worn that morning, Amy passed out, and fell into Barsad's arms.

* * *

An uncomfortable sensation on her face brought Amy back from the clutches of unconsciousness. There was a weight on her chest, a warm mass whose tail kept swishing across her face.

The furry appendage made the dryness in her mouth and the fact that her eyes felt like they were glued shut all the more uncomfortable. Her arm, as she lifted it to her face, felt as if it was made of lead. Just rubbing her eyes seemed to sap any strength she had.

Blinking several times, Amy brought the world into focus. She was staring at an expanse of white smoothness. _Ceiling_. The view to either side of her head was blocked. _Pillows._ She saw the shape of a sleeping animal by her right hand where she had returned it to lie beside her. _Dog. Rottweiler. _Gently lifting her head, she came face to face with a mass of white fur. _Cat. Hope. _When he swiped her across the face yet again, she poked at him gently, trying to get him off.

With a displeased meow, he stretched and trotted away. Attempting to raise herself up onto her elbows, Amy braced herself as dizziness made her head swim.

"Careful now, little angel."

A warm pair of hands grasped her under her arms and pulled her up, simultaneously readjusting the pillows so she could lean back against them. Once she was seated, she directed her gaze to the figure standing beside her bed. Dark pants, with an equally dark shirt. Something on the face. _A spider? _

The room was dark and some part of Amy's brain told her that it must have been evening now. The figure with the mask sat on the edge of the bed, becoming clearer. _Man. Bane. _

"You have suffered a mild concussion as well as several other minor injuries," he told her. His voice sounded somewhat distorted, far away but close at the same time. "I gave you painkillers." The day was coming back to her now, piece by piece. _Pain. Blood. Good dog. "_You may feel out of sorts for some time."

The room wasn't swimming anymore and Amy felt more aware. She was in her bedroom, in her bed, the sheets pulled to her armpits. She couldn't tell what she was wearing.

She tried to speak but her throat was too dry, and she couldn't manage even a weak whisper. A glass of water was pressed into her palm. Bane's hands wrapped around hers and guided it to her lips.

Gulping down the sweet liquid, she was upset when there was none left, still longing for more.

Holding on to the glass, she looked at the Rottweiler again. Its head was resting on its front paws, the dark eyes watching her. His muzzle was clean of blood.

"You let him stay," she remarked absently. Looking back at Bane, she saw the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he leaned over her to ruffle the fur on the dog's head.

"He was most insistent on remaining by your side," he said. She could hear the admiration in his voice. "A most loyal follower you have."

He continued petting the dog, the arm that stretched over her warm against her thighs. It surprised her to see him so relaxed, so easily amused.

When the dog went back to sleep, Bane retracted his hand, and looked at her.

Her mind still fuzzy from the undoubtedly strong painkillers, Amy stretched out and brushed her fingers against the metal tubing on Bane's mask. It was cold and smooth, the polar opposite of the man that wore it. Exploring further, she ran a finger where the mask pressed into his cheek, from the mouth piece to where his ears were hidden. Then she moved to his eyebrow. It was thick and dark, stopping just before the band of metal between his eyes. Spreading out her digits she cupped the side of his face, feeling the sigh Bane emitted against her wrist.

Wrapping a hand around her wrist, he pulled away her hand and placed it on the bed beside her body.

"Sleep now."

She saw him rise and open the door as her eyelids drooped.

"Heal, pretty angel."

_Kind?_

* * *

The little angel wasn't broken. He had feared that she wouldn't recover from the injury. She was such a tiny thing, coming up only to his chin and built like a bird. She reminded him of a bird, flitting about, always doing something, always chirping at him.

He assured himself that he was only concerned for her because she was important to the completion of the plan. But deny as he might, he knew that she had grown on him, wedged herself in his mind somehow.

But she couldn't stay there long, couldn't cloud his thoughts when Gotham was so obviously rotten. She had seen that for herself today, had witnessed the atrocious state of her city. She was smart. She would realize that there was no saving this wretched place, that only a purging fire would do.

Until then, he would keep her alive, keep her safe. She didn't need to know that he wouldn't let her go.

* * *

The next time she woke up Amy felt significantly better. The sun was just rising and peeking through her curtains. Her head throbbed, but it was dull, and she didn't feel disoriented or hazy anymore.

Gingerly she peeled back the comforter and swung her legs out of bed, taking a moment to stretch her arms above her head. Just as she'd feared she was wearing only her undergarments, a fact that although made her uncomfortable, she also knew was inevitable. Bane, or whoever it was that had treated her, couldn't have exactly put her into bed in snow soaked jeans.

Images of the previous day tried to flood her mind, but she pushed them back. Dealing with her newest mental trauma could wait until later. For now, she needed to deal with the physical part of it.

Standing carefully, Amy tested her balanced while holding on to the bedside table. Feeling reasonably stable, she padded to the bathroom eager for a hot shower.

Stripping, she stepped under the hot water and felt all her pains and aches melt away. She shampooed her hair, mindful of the tender spot at the back that she assumed had bled. Her knees and elbows were a mess of bruises from when she had fallen and the thin wound under her chin was sore, but had scabbed over.

Overall she didn't feel half as bad as she thought she would.

Drying off and wrapping a towel around herself, Amy inspected her face in the mirror. There were shadows under her eyes and she looked a little pale, but otherwise she looked pretty good for someone who almost got killed.

There was a scratch at the bathroom door as Amy pulled her hair into a messy bun on her head, not bothering with drying it. The Rottweiler trotted in when she opened the door, his docked tail wagging animatedly. Smiling, she scratched behind his ears. He smelled like outside and there was a bit of snow in the fur on his back. Confused, Amy frowned. Clearly someone had let him out, but who or why Amy had no clue.

Since Bane hadn't woken her, Amy assumed that she had the day off. Dressing for the day in leggings and a baggy, navy sweater she ventured out of her room.

She found another note from Bane, this time attached to the fridge with a magnet.

_Sleep. Eat. Recover._

_I have assigned men to care for the animals while you do so._

_I will return in the evening._

There was no signature, but Amy had no trouble recognizing the neat cursive. The note explained why the Rottweiler had been outside. Amy made a mental note of naming the dog since evidently this one was sticking around.

Hope showed up, rubbing against the dog's legs on his way to his food bowl. There was another bowl beside his with bones decorating the sides. Clearly someone had been busy accommodating the new resident.

With plenty of time and no agenda, Amy started humming quietly as she pulled out the eggs for breakfast.

* * *

Around six, Barsad showed up to take the Rottweiler for another walk. He looked faintly amused as he always did but Amy couldn't help but fret.

"You didn't get in trouble," she called out just as he was about to leave, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. "For what happened to me, I mean. Did you?"

Barsad smirked at her.

"No, Ms. Bloor, I did not get in trouble." He made air quotes around the _get in trouble _and shook his head in amusement.

Almost as an afterthought he turned back to her at the door.

"Get some sleep. It is good for healing."

Before she could thank him, he ducked out and the door shut.

* * *

Bane came back around ten, when Amy was just pulling a batch of freshly baked cupcakes out of the oven. The day had been a very restful one, with several naps in between reading books Bane left lying around and making all sorts of pastries. The cupboards were full of ingredients and what she couldn't find, she improvised.

So far she had a plate of chocolate chip cookies, an apple pie and now a plate of cupcakes that she was decorating with different colored icing.

The only downside was that she had failed to visit with Raoul. She hoped she'd run into him once she was better and able to go out again.

Free of his jacket and boots, Bane leaned in to the kitchen. Amy looked up at him and smiled while continuing her work with the cupcakes.

"Hullo," she said quietly.

"I see you've been busy," he remarked. Entering the kitchen, he picked up one of her finished cupcakes and brought it closer to his face for inspection. The Rottweiler, who had been resting on her feet under the table, padded out and sniffed Bane's leg. He was rewarded with a pat on the head before returning to his place.

"T'would seem so," she murmured absent mindedly. All that rest had been good to her and she was feeling more content than she had in a while.

Setting the colourful pastry back, he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

"Do you intend to feed all of my men?" His tone was teasing, light, and Amy couldn't help but smile again. She pointed to the cupcake that he had abandoned, which had bright pink icing and heart shaped sprinkles on it.

"I'm having a pretty hard time imagining any of you men eating _that_."

His eyes crinkled and Amy knew she made him smile. She ignored the little flutter in her chest.

"I wish to speak with you," he told her, suddenly serious. "When you are finished with this, I expect you in the living room."

Amy nodded and listened to his footsteps as he waked away and up the stairs. She assumed that he did take the mask off sometimes - why else would he need a water bottle? - but he had never done it in front of her and Amy didn't think he would appreciate prying.

Covering everything with cellophane, she put it all in the fridge after setting a cookie and a cupcake aside on a plate. Turning on the kettle to make tea, Amy heard Bane return to the living room and went to join him. The Rottweiler followed at her heels.

She sat on the floor in front of the couch so the dog could rest his head in her lap. Bane sat on the love seat opposite with his elbows resting on his knees. The mirth he had previously was gone and Amy straightened her spine.

"Yesterday, Barsad allowed you to leave without him." Amy opened her mouth to argue Barsad's innocence, but was cut off by a gesture from Bane. "I am aware that you are willful at times and do not intend to punish Barsad." Before she could be relieved Bane's eyes darkened. "However, I _will _hold _you _accountable."

Amy froze, suddenly very worried. He _had_ told her that she wasn't allowed to go anywhere without Barsad. He's made that crystal clear. And Bane didn't let disobedience go unpunished.

"I believe that the attack you suffered has been punishment enough for this particular incident," he continued. Amy couldn't have agreed more. She had only ever once felt such fear, when she had been trapped in the car with her parents. She pushed those thoughts away.

"If you should dare defy me again." He paused, his eyes dark and menacing. "I would not suggest that you find out what would happen then."

Swallowing, Amy nodded quickly.

"You are an essential part in my plan, and it would not do to have you die."

The dog stirred in her lap, reacting to her nervousness and licked at her hand. Amy started petting, soothing him as much as herself.

"Do not fear, little angel, the storm has passed for now." Bane sounded slightly amused and Amy felt a little angry at that. He'd just threatened her, and now he was laughing at her fear.

"Have you ever been afraid of anything?" she asked suddenly, her tone a little challenging. Bane was an immense wall of muscle and strength as well as a genius. It was hard to imagine him as anything but the imperturbable man she saw now.

He looked at her for a long time, not speaking. After several minutes of silence he reached for something on the coffee table. It turned out to be the book she had given him. He pushed it towards her. Amy was suddenly hurt, thinking that he intended to return her gift to her.

"I am not fluent in French, I'm afraid, but I am curious to hear this story." Leaning forward a little more, his gaze softened.

Taken aback by this strange Bane, Amy picked up the book and flipped through the fragile pages.

"Are you asking me to read it to you?" She was a little annoyed that he had brushed off her question, but puzzlement won over.

Bane stayed still for a moment, his gaze wandering down to the animal in her lap. The great beast was asleep, looking soft and harmless, calmed by Amy's presence. Faintly, he couldn't help but wonder if she held the same power over him.

He marveled at the aura of confident tranquility that she exuded, how quick she was to regain it even in times of trouble. She was like him in many ways, the strong front she presented to the world being one the similarities.

He wondered if she was just as broken on the inside as he was on the outside.

Slowly, he nodded.

Still looking confused, Amy decided not to question his bizarre request and cleared her throat before opening the book. Her voice, when she began reading, was smooth and quiet.

"La petite fille et ses allumettes…"

* * *

The book took no longer than twenty five minutes to read, but when Amy looked up at Bane again, he was fast asleep. His head rested on the back of the couch, his arms loose at his sides. He looked younger in sleep, the sharp concentration gone in slumber. She almost forgot to be wary of him.

She was free to let her eyes explore him. He wasn't wearing his bullet proof vest and the black, long sleeved shirt he wore stretched taut over his muscled torso. The khaki cargo pants fit snuggly around his bulging thighs. Amy had never seen him work out, but his regime must have been intense. She felt a certain respect for his dedication to his body.

And she couldn't deny that a tiny, wanton part of her absolutely drooled over him.

Blushing at her own thoughts, she decided to head to bed, but first she wanted to have the sweets she had set aside for herself. Gently rousing the dog, she stood and went into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of tea.

Quietly she munched on her baked goods washing it down with sips of peach oolong. Once she had cleaned up, she shuffled towards her room.

Bane was still sleeping on the couch, his brow furrowed as he dreamed. He looked terribly alone, big as he was, and Amy's gentle heart went out to him. Grabbing the fleece blanket she had napped under, she approached him silently. Just as she was about to drape it over him, her stomach sank.

Here she was, with the mighty and fearful Bane unaware and vulnerable, and she was _covering him with a blanket. _Not slitting his throat or strangling him, but making sure that he was warm. This was the man that intended to blow an entire city to hell, she reminded herself sternly. He was a cold-blooded mercenary, not a misunderstood boy.

Bane stirred and opened his eyes, his gaze sharp and attentive even right after sleep.

Scowling at him, Amy turned and fled to her room.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Can you tell that I really want a dog? :P

I'm pretty sure that a real dog wouldn't behave like this Rottweiler, but like a helpful reviewer (you know who you are) said, FanFiction is the place you go to to escape reality.

The story Amy reads/gives to Bane is an actual book. I'm not sure of the exact title or the author but I'm pretty sure its "The Girl with the Matchsticks". Really sad but also really beautiful. The french sentence translates to: "The little girl and her matches".

Anyhoo, please tell me if you love it, hate it and what I can improve.

Thank-you for your continued support! Even the tiniest review brightens my day!


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